


It Was Almost Heaven

by LM_Gennaro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6254368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LM_Gennaro/pseuds/LM_Gennaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For centuries the Guardians have protected humanity from the evil that walks the earth. One by one the Houses of the Guardians are falling, the Lost Lines of these house are awakening. The balance between good and evil is tipping precariously, only the Jameson's and the men they began training sixteen years ago can stop the darkness. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

2002 

Frantically Ella fought to regain her breath as she leaned against the wall. She let herself slide to the floor, burying her face as she tightly curled into a ball. The fear that she’d been trying to outrun had only followed her. Something was wrong, so wrong and she couldn’t have explained it, even if she tried. 

She had the irrational thought that by just being in her presence it would allow the evil to find and harm those she loved. The fear twisted as painfully inside her chest as a sharp knife. 

She could hear the moment everyone burst into the kitchen, their voices clambering to know if Nana had seen her. She took a deep breath to calm herself as the scent of dinner cooking filled her nose. The smell of barbecue drifted up from the kitchen. It was such a comforting smell; she tried to concentrate on that and push the fear from her mind. She uncurled a bit, feeling a little silly for letting the gypsy upset her so much. Taking another breath, she noticed an odd metallic scent under the aroma coming from the kitchen. 

She got to her knees, one hand braced on the wall, as she heard a soft groan coming from the bathroom across the hall. A dark shadow pooled under the door, a darkness that when she looked closer wasn’t shadow after all. It was a puddle: thick, and dark, slowly inching its way toward her.   
The rich and coppery scent was very familiar. It hadn’t been the first puddle of blood she’d seen. From training mishaps to broken Guardians dragged to her grandparent’s home on the brink of death, it was a sight that was as common to her as milk and cookies to most kids her age. 

Carefully she approached it, her hand going cautiously once again to her knife. The noise came again. It was a soft groan that ended in an odd choking sound. 

She could see her hand shaking as she reached for the doorknob; her heartbeat was like a drum in her ears. Conscious thought had shut down, allowing her instincts and training to begin taking over. What would send most adults running for help had her coldly, clinically, assessing the situation.

Logically she knew nothing should’ve been able to get past the wards at the edges of their land let alone those on the house. Her instincts were screaming that something wasn’t right, something incredibly dangerous lay beyond that door. 

“Nana,” Ella called. Her voice was calm-too calm-as she fought down the terror she was feeling. “Nana, Grandda!” 

She knew suddenly it was her uncle Rico in there; she didn’t know how she knew it, but she did and he was alive. She couldn’t know how much longer he would remain that way, but as long as his heart beat, she couldn’t leave him. She heard an odd choking moan, one that told her she couldn’t know how long he would stay that way, but she knew she didn’t have time to run for help. It was up to her to try to save him. 

The doorknob turned softly, opening into darkness where a lone candle flickered on the sink. Blood was puddled around Uncle Rico, who lay face down on the floor. 

She prayed as she slowly pushed the door fully open. 

“Our Father who art in heaven…” The Lord’s Prayer had been Ella’s safety blanket for all of her short life. She whispered it over and over as she moved to where she found a circle drawn on the floor. 

A part of her registered the odd designs around the circle and the waxing crescent in its center, a star nestled into its curve. There was blood everywhere; it looked like a serious injury, but earlier that week Rico had frightened both Jessi and Ella near to death with red tinted Caro syrup. She knew only too well the smell of death and blood… still she couldn’t help but grasp at the barest glimmer of hope that Rico was only trying to frighten her again. 

“Uncle Rico, if you’re trying to scare me again, you’re so in for it,” Ella said as she crouched down, her hand going automatically to his shoulder. “And Nana’s going to be livid; you’ll be cleaning this up with a bucket of water and a toothbrush.” 

He didn’t respond. She shook him, but he only made the same whistling, choking sound. A low keening came from behind her and Ella whirled around as a dark shadow swirled past her. She noted that her breath came out in gasps of white, a sign of a malevolent spirit. 

Uncle Rico grabbed at Ella’s ankle bringing her attention back to him. He was fighting to wrap his hand around the handle of a knife that was made out of something white as he tugged at her. Everything in her was screaming to get out of there, but she couldn’t leave her uncle. 

Dimly Ella could hear the sound of feet pounding on the stairs as she grabbed Uncle Rico’s shoulder and attempted to get a solid grip on him. She managed to roll him over before she saw the red streaming down his throat, his deathly white face, and his terror-filled eyes. Desperately he was fighting to tell her something, but the wound at his throat made it impossible for him to speak. 

She watched him in horror as he reached toward her with the knife, animal-like sounds of terror issuing from her own throat. Her hands started to go involuntarily to her mouth and the blood on them had her letting out a scream. Ella’s fight-or-flight instinct was kicking in and she knew there was no helping Rico and she didn’t get out of the bathroom she would be next. Rico’s eyes were wheeling in terror, not for himself. The knowledge of impending death was in his eyes, the fear was for her. With the last of his strength, Rico pushed at her leg, his free hand gesturing for the doorway, urging her to get out of the bathroom. 

Ella only managed a few small steps from the circle before the shadow reappeared. It positioned itself between her and the door, blocking her way with its cowled shape, the petite stature of it made it no less frightening. Looking at it was like trying to see someone shrouded in smoke making it nearly impossible to see any distinguishing features. The smoke shifted with the air offering only a momentary look at the person beyond the cowl. 

For a moment Ella caught a glimpse of a lock of long curling hair that swung forward from under the hood. She found herself momentarily mesmerized by the dark auburn that idly reminded her of her own. As the creature shifted again, she could see the bone white shape of a delicately featured face and eyes that glowed red in the darkness. 

A sharp burning across her shoulder, down her arm, and curling to the inner part of her elbow woke her from her trance like state, pulling her out of the spell of the thing before her. She looked down to find blood seeping through claw marks trailing down the arm of her shirt. 

“Another child of Eleanor to kill. Another cursed Percy to destroy.” The voice was like dried leaves skittering across concrete. The smokey shape made a noise caught somewhere between a hiss and a laugh. It was the most frightening sound Ella had ever heard, and she could see her death in those glowing red eyes.

Ella didn’t scream; she knew the futility of it. Death was coming for her there was nothing she could do except pray as the sleeve of the cloak lifted. Ella trembled as she tried to face her death with the same bravery and dignity of her ancestors. The smoke shifted again, allowing a brief view of a white hand with red tipped nails before something the color of aged ivory flashed in the darkness. Ella blinked in surprise as the cowled creature retreated just a bit and hesitated warily just out of range of the bone colored knife. 

An arm wrapped around her waist, snapping her from her frozen daze. Instinctively she attempted to stomp on the instep of her opponent, but whatever it was anticipated the attack and moved accordingly. Glancing back, she realized it was Dean that held her. Despite the dimness of the room she could see the determined jut of his jaw. 

Quickly he assessed the situation, hesitating for only a moment before hauling her back into the circle and shifting Ella behind him. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling with the knowledge that she’d just come within inches of death. 

In Dean’s blood stained hands was the knife that Rico had been holding. The creature had withdrawn from it; it had hesitated at the sight of the seemingly simple knife. Something about the bit of bone made it move warily to the edge of the circle where it could go no further. They watched as it hissed in fury, pushing up against the edge of the chalk line. Dean dropped to his knees in front of her cupping her cheeks in his hands. 

“Ella,” he demanded, forcing her to look at him. “Are you alright, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she replied fighting for steadiness, her hands wrapping around his wrists, holding on to him desperately trying to pull herself together. “I’ll be fine.”

The darkness swirled around them as it focused on the knife in Dean’s hand. He wrapped his free arm around her, tucking her head under his chin.

“It’s alright, it’ll be alright,” he assured her. She nodded, but she wondered if he believed his own lie. They were trapped, none of their training so far had prepared for them for the threat before them.

It didn’t stop Ella from cataloging the facts in hopes of finding something, anything. It’d become corporeal enough to scratch her, but could materialize like a spirit. She still had no idea how it’d even gotten through the wards, or what kind of circle was currently protecting them. The surrounding symbols were unlike anything she’d ever seen, either way it hadn’t protected Rico well enough. The creature’s head tilted as it lifted its nose, like a hound that had picked up a scent

“My fight isn’t with you son of Du Lac, set down the knife, it’s the House of Percy, the daughter of Eleanor that I want,” the creature told Dean, its voice that same unnerving rasp. Ella looked to the bone knife still clenched in Dean’s hand. He didn’t drop it, instead he tightened his hold on it, and got carefully to his feet pulling Ella to hers, continuing to stand between her and the danger. 

“If you want her, then your fight's with me, I won’t let you hurt her,” he returned, tightening his arm around her, holding the knife protectively in front of them both. More than anything Ella wanted to bury her face into his shoulder, to block out the sight of the terrifying figure and the bloody vision of her mutilated uncle. She fought to hold herself steady despite it. 

The creature let out a bitter laugh gathering itself to attack, but the lights flicked on in a blinding flash stopping it. It keened furiously in a pitch high enough to leave only the mirror intact. Both Ella and Dean watched the cloaked shape swirl like smoke through the air and disappear into the reflective surface. An eerie flash of glowing eyes remained for a moment before they too slowly faded until the only evidence that remained was a small, feminine, bloody handprint left on the mirror. 

Shivering, Ella looked to the doorway where she found her grandfather standing, his hand still on the light switch. He’d frozen at the sight of the body of his son and the blood that had transferred to both Dean and Ella. He instinctively snapped himself out of his shock and gestured for them to get out of the room. Neither of them needed much motivation. 

Dean half led, half carried her from the room. She knew she was safe for now; bereavement and relief warred within her since the danger had passed. 

Sobs shook her shoulders for the loss of her beloved uncle. Dean guided her into her room as her body began to shake from both sorrow and latent adrenaline. 

Grief swept through her and she found herself wrapped in Dean’s arms, her head tucked under his chin; only his arms were keeping her standing. 

“Dean…” she whispered, the word catching in her throat and she could do no more than say his name. 

“I know,” he returned, holding her tighter. “I’m sorry Ella, I’m so sorry, he was a damn good Hunter.” 

“Why do we keep doing this?” 

She was desperate in her demand. Nothing made sense, not Rico’s death, not the attack, nothing. It only drove home how easily they could die, and for what? All her life she’d been told that it was for the greater good, that it was their duty to take out evil at any cost, to sacrifice anything necessary and she’d believed it whole heartedly. Now confronted with Rico’s death and her own helplessness she couldn’t help wondering if the cost was too high. Rico had been one of the best and nothing in his years of training had saved him. How could she hope to do better?

Surely the pact made between the Watchers, the Guardians, and God had been fulfilled by now. Hadn’t enough blood been spilled over the centuries, hadn’t enough of her family given their lives to forgive the sin of love? 

“Because there’s no one else,” Dean replied softly. “Because we can’t let evil win, we can’t let the innocent die, and we can’t stand by while there’s something we can do.” 

There was a burning in her shoulder that had started out simply annoying her, but was quickly building into serious pain. Her arm was beginning to go numb in places while heat scorched through it in others. Looking down at her arm she saw the tears in her shirt, and the black streaks that were spreading from her torn skin. 

“Dean, don’t leave me,” she begged urgently as her gaze flew from the wound to him, her eyes wide with fear. “Please, don’t leave me.” 

“I won’t Ella,” he promised wrapping his arm tighter around her trying not to let the fear at the sight of those black lines following the path of her veins and what that meant show. 

***   
From the moment Ella’s scream had echoed through the apartment, Jessi had been instantly awake. She’d taken only long enough to grab her dagger before she hit the floor at a dead run for her cousin’s room. She raced into Ella’s room to find her lying in bed tossing and turning, tears streaming from beneath her closed lids. It took Jessi only seconds before her sleep-fogged and slightly hung over mind realized Ella was only dreaming. 

It had taken a few more minutes to comprehend that it wasn’t just any dream. It was the dream, the one that had haunted Ella for years after their Uncle Rico’s death with glimpses of what had happened seven years ago. 

Jessi forced her breathing to even as she crossed the room and plopped down in the chair near the window. The windows had been left cracked and the filmy white curtains danced in the cold winter breeze, filtering the early morning rays of sunlight randomly through the room. 

The dream had haunted her cousin since that fateful night Rico had died. The horrors of what Ella had seen and the subsequent deaths in the family would’ve been enough for anyone, Guardian included, to have nightmares. Even after they’d been sent to live with their Aunt Ellen, Ella had struggled with the nightmares. After a few months they’d stopped coming as regularly. On occasion it would rear its ugly head, but for the most part they’d eventually faded away. 

It had been six months since she’d gotten the call from Ella and had joined her in South Bend, Indiana. A few months after Jessi’s return the dreams had come back. Not only had they come back, but instead of it starting and stopping with Rico’s death and Ella’s subsequent finding of him, they’d begun stretching earlier into the day, or later. She could only make a rough guess by what Ella said in her sleep. Either way they’d become far more intense than they had before and Jessi couldn’t help but feel like that meant something. 

Rubbing her arms against the chill she debated waking her cousin, but with the nightmares coming more frequently and Ella remembering more, it was becoming dangerous to wake her. More than likely she would react violently, leaving Jessi with no other choice than to fight to defend herself. It wouldn’t have been a problem except lately Ella was so caught in the past that the training they’d once done was as fresh for her cousin as it had been the morning their lives had so drastically changed. 

In her current state Jessi wasn’t certain she had either the physical or emotional strength to take on a fight with Ella, at least not without one or both of them getting hurt. Part of her vibrated at the thought of a fight, at the opportunity to spar with Ella again, but she wouldn’t risk it. 

Caught in the memories of the past Ella’s fight-or-flight instincts wouldn’t allow her to be able to stop and Jessi could be forced to injure her cousin to end it. 

Since there was no waking Ella without physically touching her, Jessi was forced to wait, something that went against her very nature. She plucked the sweater Ella had left on the chair in front of the windows slipping it on. She tried not to fidget, but watching her beloved cousin in pain was pure torture. The woman had been raised beside her; they’d been as close as twins for as long as Jessi could remember. 

Jessi’s powers of empathy were tugging at her, pulling her toward Ella’s out-of-control emotions with the instinctive need to help. It took everything she had to pull herself back. No matter how desperately she wanted to help her cousin—until Ella understood that she wasn’t dreaming, she was remembering—there was nothing Jessi could do. 

Since she’d returned to South Bend nine months ago and taken the second bedroom in the apartment Ella was renting from Jem, she’d heard Ella’s dreaming nearly every night. It weighed on both of them—it was no picnic for Jessi—but it was leaving Ella in emotional turmoil and utterly exhausted. 

Once Ella finally quieted, Jessi slipped out of the bedroom, moved tiredly into the kitchen, and slammed a glass on the counter before hopping up next to it. She wasn’t certain how much more she could take. Kneeling on the counter, she opened the cabinet above the fridge and took down the bottle of Johnny Walker she’d stashed there. 

She bobbled the bottle, nearly dropping it as she heard Ella’s voice once again. This time it wasn’t a scream, she was speaking. Her voice, her inflection and tone told Jessi she was still in the clutches of the dream. Pouring a generous amount of the alcohol, she took the glass with her back into Ella’s room. 

“Dean,” her cousin was begging, the pain sharp enough to wound Jessi’s heart, while Ella’s voice caught on the name. 

“Why do we keep doing this?” 

Ella’s demand was despairing; it was a question Jessi had certainly asked herself often enough. It was something that at one point, if not many times, a Guardian asked no matter their devotion to the cause. The words why me, and why do we keep fighting had at one time or another haunted every Guardian and Hunter that had ever lived. 

At some a point everyone felt they’d never do enough to hold back the darkness, that no matter how hard you fought it wouldn’t end. Eventually you picked yourself up and returned to what was the right thing, but Guardians and Hunters alike were not without doubt. Perhaps they’d just been born with an inordinate amount of stubborn stupidity because it never really seemed to stop them for long. 

Jessi studied the woman sleeping in front of her as she fell silent, taking a drink as she noted Ella’s fair skin that was ashen and sheened with sweat; her hair shined copper in the sunlight except where it stuck to her face. There were hollows in Ella’s cheeks that hadn’t been there nine months ago. After a moment Ella calmed and was peaceful, too peaceful. Jessi nearly dropped her glass at the unnatural stillness of her cousin and then Ella’s breathing evened. A blush burned across Ella’s pale cheeks. Jessi wondered what Ella was remembering, curious if it was about Dean. 

Jessi hadn’t heard his name from Ella since the night Uncle Rico had died since Nana had worked the spell to change Ella’s will. Nana meant to bind Ella’s powers and strip her of her will to hunt, but there was a price for that kind of magic. In her desperation her grandmother had toyed with forces she had no business playing with. 

No matter how much any well-meaning person researched and carefully constructed the spell, there was always an unexpected price. In the end that price had jumbled the majority of Ella’s memories, some it had erased completely and it’d wiped away so much of what had made Ella… well, Ella. 

Everything about the summer Uncle Rico died—including the boys that had trained with them off and on for two years — had been wiped. Jem said it was because Ella would’ve wanted vengeance had she retained her memories, it would’ve been too strong to bend her will away from hunting. 

It had rocked Jessi to hear Dean’s name from Ella’s lips. Jessi’s memories were intertwined with the present and she was running away from both. 

It hadn’t been Ella’s call alone that had brought her back; even briefly thinking of her other reasons made her gasp as a sharp pain stabbed into her heart leaving a nagging ache. Her college career couldn’t be counted as anything other than a loss. She wasn’t certain which bothered her more: that she’d failed—and she hated to fail—or what had sent her running to begin with. 

Jessi sighed. The idea of being free from the family looking over her shoulder had been a large piece of her decision to go to Tulane after she’d been accepted. She’d been tired of trying to cover up the hunts that seemed to find her no matter how much she tried to ignore them and the more she tried to walk away the more dangerous it had become. 

She’d had to accept that fate wasn’t going to let her out of the game, no matter what Nana wanted, and contrary to what Nana believed, Jessi never looked for a hunt; from the moment she’d been banned she’d continued to train, but she’d never tried to go against the edict. She couldn’t deny that when she got bored she on occasion looked for trouble, but it wasn’t different from the mischief any bored human looked for. She hadn’t gone looking for the kind of trouble that required a Guardian’s knowledge since she’d been banned. The cost of getting caught was too high.   
It was a death sentence, a decree that she was too dangerous to continue to live. Death itself didn’t scare her, but leaving Ella alone to the whims of the family did, and nothing would ever keep her from protecting her cousin.

In the end she’d wound up missing too many classes as the darkness that was drawn to her blood found her over and over, forcing her to hunt to save herself and the innocents who couldn’t understand what was after them. 

College had turned into an impossible task, one that had left her feeling like Sisyphus, eternally pushing a boulder up a hill only to be forced to watch it roll down again and again, doomed forever to repeat the task.

She’d been thankful for Ella’s call and the excuse to leave New Orleans. She looked at Ella, fearing there was a larger toll she was going to be forced to pay in walking away from a civilian life. There was the chance that she’d have to leave her cousin behind. Jessi blinked back tears of guilt and sorrow as she watched Ella tossing and turning. 

Taking a sip of her bourbon, she reminded herself there was also a chance that she could return to hunting with Ella at her side. Granted, not like she wanted, but still working with her and actively in her life. After everything she’d lived through, she tended to be pessimistic. It was much easier to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised when you didn’t get kicked in the teeth. Dean’s name whispered from Ella woke the hope that she might finally be remembering, a hope she was fighting to dim.

She took a deep, and a much needed fortifying drink before she set her glass on Ella’s desk. Perhaps it was time to see what lay in Ella’s memories. Jessi would need to understand how much her cousin was remembering. If there was any chance, those dreams would go beyond nightmares allowing Ella to once again know the whole truth, Jessi would do whatever it took to help it along and to get her cousin back, whole.


	2. Chapter 2

Taking a deep breath, Jessi reached out and gently placed her fingers on Ella's temples. Seeing was a connection she only shared with Ella. She forced her body to relax and watch the past as if it were a tape, fighting not to be affected by seeing one of the worst days of her life in living color. 

“Sam got hurt protecting her from her own stupid mistakes,” Dean replied, his gaze swinging back to Ella. Carefully he sat on the edge of the bed as another set of footsteps stopped in the doorway. This set she knew better than she knew Dean’s. The older man in the doorway paused looking at Ella, worry etching his brow. 

Jessi flinched at the memory. She’d overheard those words as she’d slipped out of Ella’s room and down the hallway. She remembered arguing with Dean over the danger she’d put Sam in.

***

“Granda.” 

“Ella, a stὸr,” the familiar Gaelic had her smiling. “Are you hurting? How are you feeling?” 

“I’ll be fine Granda, I promise,” she replied, wanting instinctively to minimize his pain, seeing it clearly in his eyes. 

“Your fever broke.” There was a breathless note in his voice and the sudden light of hope in his eyes. 

“A ghrá geal.” The familiar Irish endearment slipped from Granda’s lips. She forced a wan smile before she was forced to close her eyes at another wave of pain. 

“Not even her darkness can dim your light…” Granda said as he brushed back her hair before taking a syringe and the bottle of pain medication from her nightstand and measuring out a dose. 

The pain eased as the medicine hit her bloodstream, the faint taste of band aides lingering at the back of her mouth telling her it was working. Her grandfather withdrew the syringe and dropped it into the trash can before handing her a vial of the foul looking liquid that she dimly recognized from the night before. Ella downed it, forcing it to stay down by sheer will. The taste definitely hadn't improved with age. 

Dean handed her a Coke, the bubbly sweetness taking the edge off the taste of the concoction. She watched with a detachment created by the pain medication as her grandfather took another syringe and filled it with her blood. 

“My son Jem got in early this morning. He can watch her if you want to go back into Sam’s room. We’re mixing more of the potion Carlos made for Ella last night to give Sam. I think Ella’s blood may be the key to healing him.” 

“I can sit with Ella for a few minutes more,” Dean replied with a brief nod. “Come and get me before you give it to him.” 

Her grandfather nodded before he walked across the room and disappeared down the hall. Ella's gaze turned to Dean; her heart jumped at the worry in his eyes. 

“Is the pain getting better?” 

She gave him a brief nod as he sat on the bed near her hip. As he took her hand, she looked down at their intertwined fingers. Perhaps it was the medicine, or it could’ve been her very close brush with death, but she no longer cared about hiding her feelings. All the reasons she’d kept telling herself over and over again slipped away when she looked back up at him. 

“Coke?” she asked softly, moving carefully into a sitting position. Her head spun pleasantly as he handed her the drink. 

She took a few sips, watching him over the can and studying the planes of his face in the light. Her eyes drifted of their own accord down to his lips. She licked her own as she realized how much she wanted to kiss him, memories of the past few days flickering through her mind. The way he’d followed her the day before, protecting her even when she’d pushed him away. It twined with the kiss in the woods the day before, the way it’d sparked a fire that felt like it would consume her. The way his hand felt in hers attempting to comfort her in the gypsy camp and the way he’d risked his own life to save her in the bathroom all of it wrapped together into an emotion she’d been teetering on.

More memories joined the others, the way he’d held her so Carlos could clean her wound, of how he’d had to stop when she’d screamed and writhed in pain, of the intensity of his gaze when she’d begged him to let her die. He’d wrapped his strong arms around her, comforting her, his voice speaking in her ear forcing her to remain aware, awake and alive. It all combined into a bright spot that shone through the darkness of the pain and grief. Butterflies moved from her stomach to her chest, adding to warmth that she couldn’t describe. 

Handing the can to Dean, she told herself that she could always blame it on the medicine, as he bent over her to place the Coke on her nightstand. Before he could sit back, she lifted her head and hesitantly touched her lips to his, he froze.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she pulled back, her cheeks flaming with color at her misjudgment, her fingers went briefly to her lips lingering for a moment or two before coming to rest on Dean's chest. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Are you?”

Dean’s question surprised her enough that she looked back up at him, the confusion plain on her face. Her heart was pounding in her ears with her embarrassment. He glanced down to where her hand still lay, causing her to pull away as if she’d been burned.

“I…” she stuttered. It seemed so easy in her head with her excuse ready. It occurred to her that Jessi would shrug this off much better than she was. She’d never live this down; he’d tease her for the rest of their lives. “The medicine…” 

“The medicine made you do it?” 

Peeking at him from under her lashes, she saw the amused look on his face and wanted to pull the covers over her head. In confusion she dropped her head to study the comforter rather than look at him as she mentally cursed herself for the stupidest idea ever. It was becoming difficult to keep track of when he was interested and when he wasn’t. Just as she was wishing the floor would open up and swallow her he slipped his knuckle under her chin. The gentle pressure of his finger forced her head up and her eyes to meet his.

She could see the amusement still twinkling there, but she could also see something else: something deeper, something warmer in his gaze. His eyes dipped to her lips, causing her to lick them self-consciously before his hand slipped around to the back of her neck and his fingers twirled the hair at her nape. Each feeling was branded into her memory until his lips again met hers. 

She responded instinctively. Her heart continued to pound and her skin warmed though not from a blush. Dean pulled back after a moment, his eyes closed, his breathing as ragged as if they’d just finished the training course outside. 

“Ella,” he murmured as he leaned his forehead against hers, his hand trailing down her neck and resting just under her collar bone. “You’re hurt and you’re not ready.” 

“I’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.” She heard the words slip from her lips before she slid her good hand into his hair and pulled him back to her. She knew she’d never forget this: the silky feel of his lips against hers, the heat of his mouth, his tongue dancing with hers.

The sunlight slipped over them both, warming them, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of his hands as they slid down her sides and fisted in her shirt, pulling her gently, but tightly against him. She couldn’t catch her breath as his hands slid under the edge of the tank she’d slept in caressing her bare stomach. 

She moaned in pain as her arm was jostled and he let go of her, dragged himself away. Her head was spinning and beginning to get fuzzy. After a moment Dean realized he was holding her up, He could see the glassiness of her eyes and how she was fighting to keep them open, forcing himself to take a deep breath he just held her.

“Go to sleep Ella. I’ll still be here when you wake up,” Dean told her, softly brushing her hair back from her face, gently kissing the top of her head.  
“You’re going to pretend this didn’t happen again aren’t you? Or you’ll tease me until I want to shoot myself, at least until John gets here, and he kills us all.” The dread readily apparent in her voice. “That is, if you don’t just leave while I’m sleeping.” 

“I won’t,” he promised, unable to stop from cupping her cheek and kissing her again, letting himself get lost in the passion he’d been running from and the tenderness he’d denied. She’d almost died in the bathroom the day before, bringing him face to face with exactly how much he cared and what he’d almost lost. He couldn’t lose her, he wouldn’t, the very idea had his arm tightening around her as if he could keep her alive by holding her.  
As he held on to her breathing in the scent of her shampoo and the spicy rose of the soap and lotion she used, he felt her arms loosen until they laid lightly across his shoulders. The medicine was taking full effect, carefully he lowered her to her pillows as if she were delicate, fragile, easily broken with even the slightest harsh touch.

“Get some sleep Ella, I won’t leave you unless I have to check on Sam.” 

“Promise?” she breathed, unable to keep her eyes open anymore. 

“I promise,” he returned, but she was already asleep… 

***  
“Don’t leave me, Dean,” Jessi heard Ella whisper, leaving Jessi was reeling.

She’d known there’d been something going on between Dean and Ella, but she hadn’t realized exactly how deep those emotions had gone. She remembered they’d gone deep enough that Dean had refused at first to leave when his father had come to take the boys after the attack. 

Jessi had been young and grieving, she’d loved Rico as much as Ella, she’d been too wrapped up to realize exactly what happened and why. It made perfect sense now. Dean and John had nearly come to blows over leaving the farm, at the time she’d thought it was out of loyalty to the Jameson’s and the need to protect all of them. Now she understood it was Ella and her cousin’s emotions had ran just as deep as Dean’s.

The changes in who Ella had been before the attack and who she’d become after suddenly made sense. What had been done for Ella’s good—the greater good—was actually a terrible betrayal. Ella had lost some of the most precious pieces of her life, pieces that directly impacted the woman she’d become. The memory of her first love had been taken and that deceptively innocuous memory had changed things in Ella, things that reached deeply into her current life.

Jessi had been able to move on and grow up while Ella was emotionally stunted and worse; she was completely unaware of it. Jessi wasn’t certain if there was anything that could be done to fix it; it was beyond the scope of her powers. It’d left a void in Ella’s life, a hole that had left her burying herself. Those experiences that every teen went through, their first love and first heartbreak had been ended before she’d even known what had happened. By not being able to remember those moments of her life, it had left her confused and Ella never handled confusion well.  
Jessi wasn’t even certain Ella had ever had a boyfriend, let alone more than a handful of dates. In so many ways Ella had shut down completely after the night of their uncle’s death. She hadn’t been allowed to grieve as Jessi had because she didn’t even know what happened. 

Currently she was carrying the school load of a double major in both history and ancient language, with a minor in mythology. It made Jessi wonder how much of it was Ella’s way of continuing to hide from herself. The only time Ella left her desk was to tend bar and there she was efficient enough to make decent tips, but she lacked the flash and charm that Jessi wielded like a weapon. There had been a passion that Jessi missed seeing in her cousin's eyes and in her actions. 

Eventually Ella had acclimated to the trauma, and the nightmares had died away. They’d never fully faded but usually they only haunted her for a few days around the anniversary of Rico’s death. It was March now. It had been more than six months since the seventh anniversary of his death had passed and the dreams weren’t fading they were getting stronger, almost more urgent.

A slim hope gripped Jessi’s heart, a hope that Ella was fighting against the spell Nana had worked. A hope that Jessi might be able to reclaim what had been taken from Ella. It was a slim chance but if there was one thing Jessi understood it was emotion and the power of it.  
Jessi couldn’t help wondering if the one person Ella couldn’t remember, could be the key to unlocking those memories. If the man she’d loved as a boy could reach that piece of Ella that Jessi had never been able to free. She’d put in a call to Dean, after all, he owed her a favor after that last hunt she’d saved his ass on.

There was a chance that Ella seeing her first and sadly, only love, might trigger something, anything. It was Jessi's last desperate hope, and hardly the stupidest thing she’d done in a long and storied career of stupid that danced playfully over the edge of insanity and back again. She often wondered if she'd slid over the side and was crazier than she was sane.

“Ella?” Jessi called, gently, breathing a sigh of relief as Ella woke shooting bolt upright in bed, sweat pasting her hair to her face and the tank top she’d slept in clinging damply to her, her eyes darting around the room as she realized it had been a dream. “Another nightmare?”  
“Yeah.” Ella’s voice was soft and distracted as she wrapped her arms around herself, staring sightlessly at the wall across from her. Just like that the dream vanished like dew in the summer’s sun. Every muscle in her body tense and vibrating with frustration, dregs of fear and sorrow making her heartache.

“You still can’t remember what it's about?”

Ella didn’t answer, but she didn't have to. As the sunlight played across her from the crack in the curtains, Jessi studied her cousin. Ella’s muscles were rigid as she stared blindly into the sunshine. Glancing at Jessi she could see how haunted those vividly green eyes were.  
Running a hand through her hair, Ella pushed her palm against her forehead, her eyes squeezing shut against the pain that Jessi could easily see swimming in her eyes. 

“Every time I try, every time I try to push through I get only pieces before the headache takes over. How do I make them stop, Jessi? Maybe I should see the psychiatrist Charlotte recommended.”  
“I don’t think that’s what you need,” Jessi replied a little too quickly. Ella looked at her cousin in confusion and was rewarded with a smile. Jessi only shrugged when her eyes narrowed before continuing. “I don’t think you need a shrink; I think you need to give it time.”  
“How much more time do I give? Five times this week, Jessi, five times. I’ve been keeping track. I can’t live like this. I just can’t do it.”  
Six, Jessi thought to herself. It’d been six, but who was counting? Jessi shrugged nonchalantly. The “shrink”, would actually be a witch, one that could very well suppress Ella’s memories forever and then she’d never know what happened. She’d never be able to reclaim herself, to take back the pieces that had been stolen. Jessi wasn’t certain which made her feel sicker.  
Standing, Jessi moved to her cousin and ran her hand through Ella's dark silky curls briefly. Her eyes met Jessi's as she just stared, pain and frustration warring in her eyes.  
"For now, let it go Ella. Don't make yourself sick. I'm certain just a little more time will fix it," Jessi assured her before striding across the hall and into her own room. 

She closed her door carefully before she picked up her cell phone. She heard rustling coming from Ella’s room; she knew Ella’s habit was to get up, throw on some clothes, pull her hair up, and head down to the coffee shop within walking distance of the pub that they both worked at and lived above. She’d bring back a Café au lait with cinnamon and a fresh croissant for herself as well as a Mocha and cinnamon roll or apple fritter for Jessi.  
The only deviation from her usual routine was a stop in the bathroom where Jessi could hear her fumbling through the medicines stocked in the mirrored cabinet. The headache must be already taking its toll; she heard the sound of pills against a bottle and running water before Ella’s footsteps echoed down the hallway toward the door. 

It would give Jessi time to call Dean and see if she could convince him to make a pit stop in South Bend. There were four things that Dean Winchester loved, his family, his car, whiskey, and women. The last two were all she could hope to provide, but she could provide it copiously. As a popular hangout for the firefighters that were off duty, the coed's flocked to Jameson’s, he’d have plenty of girls to choose from. 

Jessi peaked out her door and just as she’d predicted, Ella threw a scarf over her sweatshirt and grabbed a dark pair of sunglasses before she headed out the door, calling out a half-hearted parting as she went.

Ella was a creature of habit, a trait that had served her well when it’d come to training and hunting. It’d allowed her to make certain that each step had been as perfectly planned as was possible. Once it’d made Ella an incredible Guardian—well, that and her keen ability to think on her feet.  
Jessi reminded herself there were still some of Ella’s innate personality traits shining through, pieces that might be strong enough to break the spell. She wondered briefly if she should talk to her Uncle Jem. The thought was a fleeting one, it would probably be better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Even if he wanted to give permission, he could be honor bound to deny her request. There was so much tied up in Ella’s hunting, so much fear that had taken root in the family after the death of Rico. So Jessi would act on her own which if she were honest suited her right down to the ground…  
Sliding the door closed again, she moved to her window to stare out of it as she dialed. She waited impatiently as it rang. Now that she had a direction she was determined to get the ball rolling as quickly as possible. 

After a few rings she was rewarded with the husky, sleepy voice of Dean Winchester. His voice might’ve been sexy… if it had been anyone other than Dean. 

“Morning sunshine,” Jessi said cheerfully, knowing and fully enjoying how it would grate on Dean’s nerves. She really just couldn’t help herself. She had been needling him since they were children and it never failed to entertain her or brighten her mood. 

“What do you want, Jessi?” 

“I have need of a favor and seeing as you owe me one…” 

“I don’t owe you anything. You nearly getting Sam killed is a debt you can’t repay, sweetheart,” Dean retorted, cutting her off. 

Jessi couldn't help flinching. She was still more raw than she wanted to be, especially where the younger Winchester was concerned. She should’ve expected Dean's response; he never failed to remind her of her stupidity. She supposed it was his right as much as messing with him was hers.  
“Perhaps, but it was only nearly, and I did save your ass on that last hunt with the rusalka.”

“And I already thanked you for that by not telling your family you were hunting.” 

“Look Dean, we can waste precious time here trading stories on how we’ve saved and endangered each other for days, but the fact is I need your help,” She paused for a moment before she took a deep breath and plowed on. “With Ella.”

“Ella’s out of the game, Jessi,” Dean replied, too quickly. 

She could practically see him rub his hand over his face trying to wake up completely though she’d heard the interest and the awareness at the mention of her cousin.

“For now,” Jessi agreed. “But Dean, she’s been dreaming of that night. It’s haunting her, and she’s not sleeping well. It's destroying her peace of mind. She’s starting to become a shell of herself.  
”  
“She’s always had nightmares that’s nothing new,” Dean argued. “Unless you've been lying.”

“I haven't lied to you,” Jessi snapped before she could stop herself. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before she continued, she wouldn't give in, she wouldn't let him rile her, she wouldn't let him lead her into a fight so he could hang up on her. 

“This is different, Dean. The dreams before have always centered on Rico, on finding him and the attack that followed. They’ve come and gone around the anniversary of his death, but that’s in September. It's March now and if anything they've gotten worse. That’s not all that’s different, the dream’s changing, it isn’t just about Rico, she’s remembering pieces of what happened after, she’s remembering more than Rico’s death.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Dean’s voice was skeptical, but she’d could tell she’d further peaked his interest. She doubted that he’d continued to carrying a torch for Ella all these years, but Jessi hoped that what had been might be incentive enough to help, for old time’s sake. After all your first love wasn’t something you forgot very easily and however angry he’d been Dean wouldn’t hold a grudge against Ella.

“This morning she called your name Dean.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said quickly. Jessi’s eyes narrowed, his response had been a little too quick.

“She’s calling for you, Dean; I can’t help but think that means something. Maybe seeing you and talking with you might trigger something in her. I think she’s managing to break down the freaking spell that Nana put on her.” 

“Is that even possible?” 

“I don’t know, but if anyone could do it, it would be Ella.” 

“You know she put a spell on all of us. We can’t talk about anything leading up to, during, or after Rico’s death, not to anyone that wasn't there and especially not to Ella,” Dean reminded her. It was just one more thing on the continually growing list of things Nana had screwed up, but Jessi had also seen the loophole. 

“We can’t tell Ella anything she doesn’t know herself,” she amended. “The spell was specific. We can’t directly speak about what Ella doesn’t know while she can’t remember. Once she wakes up that could change.” 

There was silence on the other end, but Dean didn’t automatically say no, which meant she might have a chance to convince him. Quickly she continued on before he could come up with any arguments to counter with.

“It would be better if you didn't mention the past or that you know her; it would be too confusing.”

“Obviously.”

“Look she might not notice, but she still gets plenty of once overs, she’s still as sweet as you remember so just spend a little time with her, talk with her, see if anything comes back. There have been worse ways you’ve spent a weekend.” 

Jessi winced at how close to pleading her voice had become, she couldn’t help hating it, but for Ella she’d swallow her pride and beg. Hell, she’d grovel.

“You’re desperate, this whole plan is desperate, and it's likely to fail.” Dean sighed heavily on the other end. She could feel he was wavering, teetering on the edge of agreeing to help. 

She felt a surge of relief; Jessi needed Dean to do this, she felt it in her bones that this could work.

“You’re right, I’m desperate,” Jessi agreed, her voice soft because just admitting that he was her last hope was so difficult. “I have no other options. If it doesn’t work, then your trip won’t be wasted. You’re coming to South Bend Dean, home of Notre Dame, the land of the Catholic school girl. Think of the hot girls you could bamboozle on the side while you help me. Think of it as a working vacation.” 

"Really, that's your bribe?" Dean chuckled, but she could hear the intrigue in his voice, a chance to let loose while he helped her was more of an incentive than he’d admit. Especially since it would mean she knew him better than he liked to admit.

“Come on Dean admit it, it’s a damn good one.”


	3. Chapter 3

"Is there a better one? If there is tell me and I'll find something else to pull out of my sleeve, but we both know you’ve driven farther for a piece of ass," she retorted as she flipped back her curtain, picking Ella out of the other pedestrians walking down the street. 

Ella looked so lost, so vulnerable. Why hadn't Jessi seen it earlier? God, she'd been behaving like a selfish twit; she’d been so worried about what had happened to herself that she hadn’t seen how much of a toll everything had been taking on her cousin. 

"Like you’re any different Jessi.” 

“True, but then that’s probably why we hate each other half the time. We’re too much alike, so that makes us even.” 

“I don’t know if any hook up is worth a trip down memory lane with Ella. Have you thought it might be better to let it go?” 

“If it had gone away on its own I wouldn’t be calling you, but it didn't, and I don't think it's going to. Besides, Dean, she’s looking at taking over for Jem, running our library and helping coordinate hunts, which is something Nana will never agree to. She’d be too afraid of Ella finding something. Jem’s promising he’ll supervise her, but I doubt they’ll let her. I need your help.”

There was silence on the other end and for a moment Jessi was afraid he was going to turn her down, that it was more than he could take. She wouldn’t have blamed him. She knew it was more than she should ask, but there really weren’t any other options. For days she’d felt like there was an hourglass on her time with Ella and the grains were running out.

“Fine Jessi, I'll come. Give me the damn address of where to meet you.”

Jessi gave an internal sigh of relief and relayed the information to him while she thanked every star that he’d relented. Part of her knew he’d do it no matter how difficult it was for him. He’d bitch, but when it came down to it he’d always come through for her

"What exactly do you want me to say or do?" Dean questioned irritably. He might be helping her, but it didn’t mean he was the least bit happy with it.

Either way it didn't matter to her just as long as he was there. Besides, more than likely he'd forgive her when he got a load of the scantily clad coeds. There were plenty of them that were more than willing to go for a one-night stand. 

"I just want you to strike up a conversation. I’m hoping seeing you and hearing your voice might help break down the last of the barriers blocking her memories. She deserves to be free from the chains locking up her mind, her memories, and the woman she was meant to be. She needs to be free to be whoever she wants to be, not this shell that Nana turned her into."

They both knew her cousin had been robbed; she couldn’t remember the bruises she’d endured, the blood she’d bled, the knowledge she’d amassed, the incantations she’d memorized. Jessi, Granda had always said, fought like a Viking Shield Maiden--retaining the blood of the warriors that had invaded Ireland and England. She fought with savage tunnel vision, dancing a vicious ballet until there was nothing left of her foe. Now Ella, Granda had maintained, fought like Boudicca and Scathach, with grace and tactical brilliance. 

If Nana had her way, Ella would never again feel the blood sing through her body as she fought evil, the way the light called out to extinguish the darkness. It haunted Jessi how she could feel it just under the surface, held in check by Nana’s spell, leaving her as imprisoned and impotent as Samson had been at the hands of the Philistines. 

"That is probably one of the only things you've ever said I can't argue with. I'll be there tonight. Lucky for you I'm actually not far out."

"Ha, ha. You’re a funny guy Dean." she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh and Dean? She’s off limits.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s vulnerable. I wouldn’t exactly call her naïve--she can handle her own—but there’s a piece of her that remembers you. A piece that I think was half in love with you. You don’t have relationships and she’s the kind of girl that needs one. “

“Noted.”

 “But with all seriousness, thank you Dean.”

"Don't mention it, and I mean that Jessi," he told her before hanging up the phone. 

She rolled her eyes as she watched Ella coming back up the stairs with coffee and breakfast. She had a small, shiny window of hope. It might be practically minuscule, but it was there and even the tiniest amount of hope was better than none at all. 

Jessi didn’t say much as Ella handed off her breakfast, she was distracted.  Distracted wasn’t necessarily a good thing for Jessi. It meant she was planning something and that could be a dangerous thing.  There was something about her dreams that had been setting Jessi on edge. She couldn’t help wondering what it was as the bathroom door shut.  

Heading into the kitchen she groaned under her breath. There wasn't a spot of the tabletop that could be seen. It was covered in mail and the books she had been looking for. There were two class books on the Crusades and two of the heavy tomes from her Uncle Jem’s library on the actual history of the Crusades, along with a file she was helping Jem put together for a hunt.   It was too close to chaos for Ella’s comfort.

With a sigh she stacked the books and picked them up before lugging them into her room, now she could only research, guide. She could hear the water running in the bathroom as she passed by and slipped into her bedroom.  

She was instantly slapped by the cold that she hadn’t noticed before. Her curtains danced in the icy breeze, making her room feel like a subzero fridge. Despite the sunlight streaming through her windows there was a storm coming in and the temperatures were dropping. She set everything on her desk before she crossed to the windows to shut them and open the heating vent again. 

She’d been so hot last night; her arm had ached and the scar she’d carried since she was fourteen had burned with fiery heat, leaving her sweating in pain and her skin feeling as if it was being seared from the inside out. Absently she traced the claw marks that curled down her arm and curved around her elbow.

According to Nana, it’d been given to her courtesy of a hellhound that had been stalking their lands at that time.  There had been repercussions beyond just the mere wound, her whole world had been blown apart. Everything taken away from her, everything her family had raised her to be was gone. The scars the hell hound had left behind had run deeper than her skin. By the time she’d recovered, both her grandfather and uncle had been dead. When she’d woken she’d found she no longer had the will to hunt.  

Not only had it left her without the will, it had left her fractured memories. The last thing that wasn’t hazy and confusing was when she’d woken up at the farm. She’d been achy, weak, and confused, but both her grandmother and Jessi had been overjoyed that she’d survived. 

There had been a boy, hovering in the doorway of her room. He’d been nearly a man; if she’d had to guess he’d been about sixteen. He’d been good sized, well built, with sandy hair and soft hazel-green eyes, but she hadn’t known him.

 _“Who’s that?”_ The words echoed in her mind as it had so many times since then.

It was a memory that she’d never been able to put away because he’d looked at her with such hurt and confusion after she’d asked the question. Her grandmother had hustled him out the door while Jessi had sat with her until Nana had returned to give her another shot for the pain. She’d fallen asleep to the sounds of Nana arguing with the boy; she hadn’t been able to make out any of their words but had heard the emotion, the fury in the boy’s voice, and the defensiveness that was mixed into her grandmother’s anger.  

Hours later she’d woken at the rumble of an engine, some kind of classic car with the touch of a growl. The noise had drawn her from her bed to walk shakily toward the window to see the car. Her grandfather had adored everything about classic cars and she’d spent many a day with him while he’d tinkered with his own ’68 Cougar, teaching her about it and other such vehicle's.

As she’d used the window ledge to hold herself up, she’d seen the boy one last time. A large black car had parked in front of the house. A tall dark haired man had gotten out, but he’d kept the car between himself and the house. She’d had the distinct impression that it had been a good thing and had been done on purpose. 

She hadn’t been able to get the window open fast enough to hear what the man said, which left her struggling to understand what was happening before the boy walked into the front yard. He had an army duffle slung over his shoulder; tossing the bag into the back seat, he’d moved toward the front passenger’s side door.  

Curiously, he’d paused as if he could feel her watching him. His eyes had lifted directly to hers and he’d just looked at her, holding her gaze until the man had slapped the roof of the car twice, startling them both. The back passenger door shut, but she’d been too taken with the boy to see who had gotten in.  

He hadn’t looked back as he’d slid into the seat and shut the door. She hadn’t seen him before or since, but the moment had been forever etched into her mind. 

The memory had bothered her, returning to her mind again and again. She’d spent years analyzing it, trying to figure out why she couldn’t put it away. She’d hurt a boy she didn’t know and she didn’t know why, nor had she ever been able to get an answer on why he’d been there in the first place.

The days following hadn’t gotten any better. She couldn’t remember the actual circumstances of her injury, but she’d been told she’d chased Jessi into the woods after an argument with their grandmother.  They’d been cornered just off the Jameson lands and Ella had been attacked by a rogue hellhound. It had killed her grandfather and her Uncle Rico when they’d gone out to hunt it.

A hunting party had been called in; every available member of their family was called to the farm to deal with it. Her mother’s demon compass hadn’t shown there was a demon in range. Which meant there was no demon controlling the hellhound, something that almost never happened. They weren't allowed more than a certain distance from their masters, because a demon couldn’t control them over too long a distance. 

They were rabid, vicious creatures that had to be controlled carefully and were never let off their leashes. If the hellhounds were allowed that freedom they’d hunt anything evil and good alike. They were just as likely to turn on their master as humanity and they were hard to breed. They were too precious a commodity to risk allowing any freedom.  

From time to time the old wound bothered her, aching and burning, making her feel as if she were in the middle of a bonfire, or perhaps the fires of hell were scorching her from the inside out. The last thought brought gooseflesh to her arms that had nothing to do with the cold **,** causing her to absently rub at them.  

She remembered the Conclave's decision, following the incident, to ban both girls from hunting **.** Though why they felt the need to bother with the formality of it for her she’d never understood; she’d woken up without the drive to hunt anyway.

Staring out the window, Ella touched the cold glass as she watched the normal people going about their normal lives. She envied them. She was haunted by her uselessness in a war that they seemed to be steadily losing.

She couldn’t count how many times she’d been told growing up that the Guardians were dying out; every single Guardian was desperately needed in the battle. She’d been left unable to hunt and a failure to her people, to her blood. Not only unable, but actually banned by the family.

It would’ve been so much easier if she’d been born to one of the normal people, to one of the ignorant humans instead of trapped between the two worlds. She knew too much and there was nothing she could do about it.  

There had been nothing she could do about it, she reminded herself. She might be useless as a warrior, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help fight the war.

In agitation she turned from the window and crossed to the books she’d set on her desk. She couldn’t go into the field; she didn't fully have the instincts for it. If she tried, she would end up getting someone killed trying to protect her, and more than likely that person would be Jessi. But that didn’t mean there was nothing she could do. She was perfectly capable of helping from behind the lines.  

She’d found a place where she would be useful by taking a position that hadn’t been filled for ages. Once there had been enough Guardians that they hadn’t all been warriors, there were still some today, though they were rare. Their numbers had dwindled so much so that nearly every Guardian born had enough fighting ability to be deadly, and they were desperately needed in the field. 

There was a role she could fill, a way to help. 

In the distant past there had been Historians, Guardians that didn’t have what it took to be successful in the field, or simply didn't want to be there. These individuals' talents were better suited to handling the administrative roles of the Guardian Families. Many of those would maintain the libraries, helping those in the field with the more obscure creatures or the lesser known options for the more common creatures that didn’t follow the usual patterns, and documenting things with more detail than the warriors had the time for. They had the time and ability to search the journals of the Guardians that had come before to find how to efficiently handle a hunt.  Beyond that there were so many things that could be streamlined. There was so much that she could do to coordinate the efforts of the Guardians, to send in Guardians that had the skills and were better suited to certain hunts. 

At the moment it was a matter of who got there first, who could clean up the mess the fastest. She hoped to change that, to refocus the Guardians and their allies in order to utilize them and their skills to their most effective advantage. Maybe they could start rebuilding their numbers then, instead of continuing to dwindle down their forces with unnecessary loss of life.  

Jessi was still adjusting to the idea; it wasn’t what she’d always imagined. She’d always thought they would fight together, that they’d be the partners they’d been raised to be. It had caused an argument when she’d realized that Ella never intended to return to the field.  

At that point, of course, Ella had planned on doing as Nana had pushed her to do: walk away from hunting all together and live normally. She’d believed it was all she could do. Without being able to fight, she was useless.

When Ella had finally admitted it to Jessi, it’d been one of the few times the girls had actually gone fisticuffs. The anger at Jessi—who was expecting her to try to fit into a life that she clearly wasn’t suited for—had infuriated her enough to put Jessi on her ass. They hadn’t spoken after that for two and half years.

Shifting the books to better accommodate the studying she had to do, she couldn’t help the pang of regret for the years they’d lost and the time she’d wasted trying to blind herself to a life she couldn’t forget. She’d finally realized after her first year of college that she was miserable. She desperately wanted to help in her family’s war; she hated doing nothing. She’d lost the drive to actively hunt, but she’d never lost the drive to do what she could to use the talents she had for her family’s benefit.

It’d been her cousin Sylvie, that had given her the idea.  Sylvie wasn’t cut out for the field, her talents ran to healing wounds rather than inflicting them.  She’d found a way to help in the fight in a way that suited her and inspired Ella to find her own way to help. With her interest in history, her talents for languages, and her ability to retain information beyond that of most Guardians reviving the role of Historian had been almost obvious.

More than anything though, it’d given her a way to be the partner she’d always wanted to be for Jessi. She might not be able to be directly at her cousin’s side, but she would be able to give her every advantage to safely take down whatever she came up against.   

The first thing she’d done was to swallow her pride and call Jessi before she’d gone to Jem. Part of Ella had been terrified that Jessi wouldn’t be able to forgive her, but it had thankfully proved to be a useless fear.   

Jessi had immediately packed up and driven thirty hours straight to Ella. She had to have been hauling to get there in that amount of time, but it had been such a relief.  

Ella hadn’t realized until she’d seen Jessi step from her Jeep—her strawberry blonde hair flashing gold in the sunlight—how much worry she’d carried with her every day for her cousin. Ella had always felt that it was her job to protect Jessi; she was the one that was supposed to be watching her back. Without seeing Jessi to know she was safe, there had been a terror that had dogged her.   

Her cousin’s vivid blue eyes had brightened the moment she’d seen Ella, but she’d walked to where Ella had stood with a confident swagger that was just so Jessi. Things had been a little awkward at first but that evaporated quickly and it hadn’t taken long before they picked up right where they left off. They could still finish each other’s sentences, and sometimes they didn’t even have to bother saying anything because each knew what the other was thinking already. For Ella it was like reattaching a limb that had been cut off. In the end they found that their only regret was for the time they’d let lapse between them when they’d fought.

For now, Jessi was learning that though she’d lost a piece of Ella she couldn’t get back, a piece that she hated losing, she hadn’t been completely deprived of her cousin. And yet there was a piece that—no matter how much it frustrated them both—was never back. Jessi had to accept what she could and couldn’t have and make peace with it as much as Ella had to make peace with what she should’ve been and couldn’t be.

She couldn’t stop the wish for the child she’d been, the promising Guardian she couldn’t even remember being. She wished she was as she’d been born, that she hadn’t been so affected by Rico and her grandfather’s death, for Jessi’s fire and warrior’s spirit. 

She wished she was what Jessi and her parents had so desperately wanted her to be. It would be a wish that would always linger in her heart, but she couldn’t let it control her or hinder her. Instead she was going to accept what was and move on with her life.

So she locked away that secret wish, just as she did every time it slipped out. She closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to lock away the sorrow and the tears to focus on what she could do and what she could be.

Once she was under control, she took a seat at her desk and set her alarm before reaching for the first book she needed to get started on.

She let her musings and theories go as she focused instead on the history her teacher expected her to know and the full history that her teacher knew nothing about.  

“It’s time to get ready for work,” Jessi’s voice sang out, pulling Ella from the dusty sands of Jerusalem and into the cold winter of Indiana. Glancing at the clock next to her elbow, Ella realized Jessi was right; her alarm was only minutes from going off.

Suspiciously she looked up to where her cousin was leaning in the doorway of her room, an impish grin on her face, one that never failed to make Ella wary.  

“Since when do you tell _me_ it’s time for work?” Ella demanded, laying her pen on her notepad and leaning back in her chair, stretching the muscles that had gone stiff during her intense studying. “Usually I’m forcing you downstairs for your shift with threats of dragging you by your hair.”

“The firehouse should be here tonight. Frank Donahue said they had some new blood.”

“Ah, the lure of beef cakes. Now it makes sense.” 

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to make an effort tonight,” Jessi exclaimed. Ella eyed her for a moment as she stretched and padded over to her closet. 

“For men? Please. I’ll have time to worry about men when I have my doctorate.”

“You’re in your junior year of college, Ella, how many more years before you get your doctorate?” Jessi cocked her head as she gave Ella an exasperated look. “You can be serious about school without being a nun. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to up your tips which is absolutely possible if you would just loosen up a bit.”

“Bite me Jessi.” Ella suggested.

****

The pub was busy—not packed—but still doing very respectable business considering it was still early in the evening. Dean looked around, appreciating the way the Jameson’s had hit the perfect blend of bar and restaurant. It held the charm he’d heard the bars in Ireland were known for. It was comfortable, a gathering place, the kind that saw every kind of celebration from births, to marriages, to a wake. It wasn’t a place you couldn’t take the whole family during the day and the early evening, but later the music got loud enough to shake the rafters and if those that sang along were off key from either drinking or lack of talent, no one seemed to mind.

The dark wood paneling gleamed richly under the shining brass fixtures while the cream colored walls contrasted with it, keeping the place from looking like a cave. The sounds of Irish pipes and the bodhrán played through the speakers at a volume that still allowed for conversation, while a cheery fire crackled from the stone fireplace in the center of the dining room. Tables and benches in the same wood as the paneling fanned out from the fireplace to the bar. 

The bar itself was a wonder; it looked to be hand carved. The long mirrored wall behind the bar held a wide variety of bottles on its shelves while two gracefully carved figureheads flanked each side. 

He found Jessi immediately behind it, the triple strand of beads that held her wine colored shirt to her shoulders flashing all the way to where they draped over the low cut neckline. Her burgundy and black pleated school girl skirt was relatively modest, while her knee high black boots made it appropriately naughty. If he hadn’t known Jessi, he’d have hit on her faster than she could take her next breath. 

Unfortunately, he did know Jessi and the thought was revolting—a feeling he knew would be reciprocated. He could appreciate her beauty: she was small and delicate in a way that brought out a protective streak in most men, and a smile that made them think of much more, but anything more than that was practically incestuous. He shook his head as she winked at the man that had been admiring the way her skirt had hiked up while she was reaching for a bottle on a higher shelf. 

He turned his attention to the only other bartender working with Jessi, unable to help his interest in how Ella looked now. He’d never doubted that she’d be a looker; she’d started catching the eye of the local boys when he’d last seen her, not that she’d noticed.   

Her hair had darkened from a rich copper to a dark auburn, though he could still see touches of the color he remembered glowing under the lights of the bar. Her skin was still soft cream, her face heart shaped, her high cheekbones were more defined now. She still had the old fashioned beauty she’d had at fourteen, the kind that didn’t fade even into old age.     

What surprised him was how she’d filled out. She’d been delicate and willowy when he’d last seen her. That slim build had given way to an hourglass figure with curves that reminded him of one of the sexy pin up girls that men still ogled forty years later. He continued to watch Ella move as gracefully as a dancer from behind the bar, filling orders efficiently. The girls weaved around each other without disrupting the other’s rhythm. He remembered the warm sweet girl he’d known and tried to reconcile her with the cool distant woman he saw now. He was no less interested for her reserve; instead it was a challenge and one he could see he wasn’t alone in wanting to win.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Ella was engrossed in her work, or at least attempting to look as if she were engrossed. Anything to avoid the gaze of the rich little college boy she was currently shaking a martini for. Her face was carefully neutral, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she berated the self-satisfied prick that would come into Notre Dame’s favored Irish pub and order a martini. It wasn’t that she wasn’t able to make a damn fine martini, nor that it was particularly difficult, but that Jameson’s wasn’t really a martini sort of place. You went to a pub for a couple pints, a few drams, a Car Bomb or two, tasty and filling food, or to lift both your glass as well as your voice to some traditional Irish music.

Of course it didn’t help that he was a smug little bastard that was handsome as sin—obviously a trust fund baby—and used to getting whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it. Not that she could judge him for having a trust fund; after all she had one of her own, but it was the way he obviously lavishly spent it that she couldn’t stomach.  

She’d been raised understanding that she needed to take care in spending, to invest wisely and be certain that she could leave money for the next generation. Being a Guardian was an expensive, thankless business that didn’t allow for any stable or steady job. The days of being rewarded with kingdoms and riches for their work were long gone, but the wealth had never been taken for granted by the Jameson's. It had served them well. There were plenty of Houses that had fallen to ruin because they had chosen to spend like the boy she was serving.  

It didn’t help that he had the mistaken notion that since she was tending bar she was both scraping to get by and susceptible to the lure of his money. She’d been born with too much pride. It was both a blessing and a curse; there was nothing she wanted more than to pour the martini over his head.  

It was at that moment, when she was outwardly giving the little ass a sweet smile while internally berating him, that she saw the unfamiliar man. He stood out of the way of the bustling servers, surveying the bar and taking everything in, a smirk playing on his lips.   

Following his gaze, she realized the smirk was for Jessi, though oddly it didn’t seem to have an ounce of interest in it. She had the distinct impression it was more appreciation for a fellow showman. Shaking her head, she pushed that thought away. There wasn’t a male alive that could resist Jessamyn Jameson. It was a physiological impossibility. A man had to be… well she’d say dead, but her cousin tended to be vampire fly paper, so at rest was a more apt description.

Grabbing a rarely used martini glass, she poured the drink for the frat boy while continuing to glance at the man. His hair flashed from honey brown to a darker, richer color in the lights as he strode confidently to the bar. He had a firm jaw, knowing eyes, and a pair of lips that even Ella couldn’t help noticing begged to be kissed. Interestingly, he took a seat in no man’s land, an area that would let either of the girls serve him. It would just depend on who was free first. 

The bulky, well-worn brown leather jacket, Henley, and flannel shirt told her he could be a construction worker. His hands were rough and scarred, telling her whatever he did was a physical job. He shrugged out of the coat and hung it on the back of the bar stool leaning forward a bit to look at the collection of bottles behind the bar. As she admired the way his muscles rippled and stretched under the cloth of his shirt, she noticed the telltale bulge at the back of his hip as his shirt pulled just a little around it. 

Most people would’ve missed it, but she was familiar with those that carried. Not only was the Pub a regular hangout for the ‘Fighting Irish’, the local fire department and the police were also regulars.  

It helped with the true family business when you owned the bar where the police had been congregating for the past four generations of the Jameson family. It had always given them a few well-placed police officers that knew about what liked to come out and play in the dark.

Jem had a handful of officers that had helped protect the family for years to let them keep doing the job that the police didn’t have the time or ability to take care of. After all, it wasn’t as if there weren't enough run-of-the-mill human crimes to deal with without having to handle the supernatural ones too. They were more than happy to leave that up to Jem’s discretion.  

The man couldn’t be an undercover cop; criminals would be able to spot his piece as well as she could and a criminal wouldn’t likely carry in a bar known to be frequented regularly by cops. It wasn’t overtly obvious, but for those looking, they’d see his gun.

No, she’d bet ten to one this was another Guardian, or more likely, a Hunter, which was an unusual thing. Since this was Jem’s territory it was rare to see an unknown passing through the city, let alone the pub.  She made a mental note to tell her uncle about the man and continued to glance at him, telling herself it was because she’d need a good description to pass on.  

He looked up catching her gaze and held it, a slow arrogant smile slipping across his face telling her he’d felt her sizing him up. Instead of looking away she continued to meet him stare for stare. She’d found most men weren’t sure what to do with a woman that met their eyes directly. It made them uncomfortable and had them looking away from her first, giving her the upper hand before they even realized she had it. It was a trick she’d found and perfected when she’d first started working at Jameson’s. 

His smile widened charmingly before he finally dropped his eyes, though she could see plainly it wasn’t because he was in any way intimidated. Instead his gaze traveled down her body with such an obvious interest that he turned the tables on her. It irked her to know that the upper hand had gone to him, and she turned her attention momentarily to the drink she was trying to garnish. Desperately she wished she could control the blush she could feel warming her cheeks.  

When she stole another look at the stranger she found he was still watching her. He grinned, obviously amused that she hadn’t been able to resist looking at him again. There was something about him, something in the way he held himself and his smile that tugged at her. He seemed so familiar, though she’d never met him before.

 _“Ella, you’re hurt and you’re not ready.”_ The voice echoed in her head, making her close her eyes for a moment with the stabbing pain that shot through her temple. 

“Are you okay?” she dimly heard the college boy ask as her hand flew to her temple and her eyes snapped shut against the pain. Just as quickly as the vision had come it was gone, leaving her fumbling to remember it. She took a moment before she cautiously blinked, expecting the light to add to the pain, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Yeah, fine,” she replied, unable to keep from glancing back up at the stranger. He was still watching her, the interest and teasing replaced by an uncomfortable scrutiny.  

“Here,” the boy said, pulling her attention to him. She was almost grateful. Until, of course, he pulled out his wallet and placed a hundred on the bar top. His smile gleamed as brightly as a toothpaste commercial, his regard causing a strange unease to unfurl in her stomach.  There was something about him, something she couldn’t place. His gold Rolex flashed in the light at a practiced flick of his wrist, obviously trying to bring her gaze to it, apparently he thought it would impress her, all it did was aggravate her further.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house,” Ella said shortly, but he didn’t seem to hear the irritation. She was on the verge of finally losing her temper when she noticed Jessi at the beer taps. Her cousin smiled at the stranger, talking to him as she began building a Guinness. A stab of disappointment and jealousy confused her; she wasn’t used to either of those feelings when it came to the opposite sex.  

It was probably for the best, she told herself. Jessi would be able to handle him better than she ever could. It would be like playing with fire and whatever was drawing her to the man was probably better left unexplored.

“Ella, love, another round for the boys,” Frank Donahue called from a few seats down the bar. She smiled at the fire chief and gave him a nod before turning her attention back to the customers that actually needed her. 

 “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show,” Jessi declared as she paused in pouring a Guinness, letting it settle.

“Nice to see you too, Jessi,” Dean said, giving her a grin. She rolled her eyes as she finished building the drink and served it before she returned to him. She watched him look at Ella, and a flash of something unusual cross her cousin’s eyes before she turned back to the overly polished pretty boy she’d been serving. Had that been jealousy? In Ella? It was unheard of. 

“I’m sure it is,” Jessi replied as she poured two fingers of Tullamore Dew and slid it down the bar to one of the rookie firemen she’d been flirting with all night. His taste in good Irish whiskey only made him more interesting.

“So where do I start?”

“Strike up a conversation. That shouldn’t be too hard for you,” Jessi said, giving him a wide grin with a challenging gleam in her eyes. “On second thought it might be. Ella’s more interested in her books than guys, so there’s a good chance you’ll strike out champ.”  

“Doesn’t seem like the guy down there’s having too much trouble.” 

Jessi followed Dean’s gaze to the pretty boy that had his hand wrapped around Ella’s. She saw Ella try to pull her hand away and the boy hold it down. Her cousin snapped at him, but he still didn’t release her.  

Jessi wasn’t certain whether to be impressed at the boy’s balls or pissed because she knew well that Ella didn’t particularly like being touched by anyone that wasn’t either directly—or that might as well be—related.

Ella looked from the boy’s hand to his face as she tried to pull away again, but he didn’t budge. Glaring at him and trying to control her temper, she raised an eyebrow as anger flashed in her eyes. She debated for a moment which would be more satisfying: blackening the kid’s eye or hitting him square in the nose. 

 “Braedan,” He said arrogantly, as if telling her his name might somehow make it alright that he was touching her without permission. 

“Great to meet you, Braedan. Enjoy yourself, but I have another customer…”

“Come on, what’s your name?”

“Ella.” Her voice was short as she continued to fight her temper. The idea of blood spurting from his nose was so appealing, though it wasn’t at all like her. She could handle blood, but she didn’t usually want to be the cause of it. Gently Braedan rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. 

“Thank you, Ella, this is a fantastic martini,” he continued. There was a warmth from his hand, one that was making her uncomfortable, warm, edgy. Oddly it soothed her temper, beginning to turn it to amusement and interest. He was actually pretty good looking, she realized. His golden boy looks were almost angelic.

“At Jameson’s we aim to please.” Her voice softened and she offered him a real smile. 

“Here.” Braedan handed her a thick fold of bills. “You work too hard; you should enjoy yourself.”

“It’s alright, I’m set.”

Just when she thought he might have some redeeming qualities, he ruined it. He just offered her another smile and left the money on the bar.

She wasn’t for sale, even if she’d been a struggling student trying to make ends meet she’d have turned him down, it wasn’t worth the tip.   Tilting her head, she was sorely tempted to tell him her family could probably buy and sell his six times over. She could feel Jessi’s and the stranger eyeing her, with a sweet smile she toed an empty glass rack over and stood leaning on her elbows only inches from the boy’s face.  Taking the money from the bar she lifted her lips until they were a breath from his. 

“Keep it,” she told him coldly, stuffing the money into the pocket on his shirt, before she whirled away. 

Jessi glanced at Dean who smiled in amusement, as the boy was stupid enough to open his mouth taking pity on him Jessi beat him to it.

“Ella, can you get the middle? I’m swamped,” Jessi said biting back a laugh. “I greeted him, but I haven’t had a chance to actually take his order.”

As per usual there were one too many men vying for her cousin’s attention at the moment, and she rolled her eyes in response.

“Sure, Jessi.”

The further away she moved from the arrogant coed, the easier Ella felt, there was just something about him. Something that made her wary; it unnerved her that when he had touched her for a moment everything her gut had been telling her faded away. Pausing to look back at him, she watched as he joined a group of frat boys at a table just as their waitress, Jenny, arrived. 

He took a drink, his eyes maintaining contact over the rim of the glass, then lifted it in a toast to her. She looked away turning back to the task at hand. She’d have to tell Sean, the bouncer on tonight, to keep an eye out for the group.  

More than likely he was just another spoiled handsy rich kid who thought money actually bought him the world. Unfortunately, where there was one in a group, it was pretty likely there would be more. She didn’t envy Jenny, even if she might make fabulous tips. To be on the safe side, she’d have Sean walk the waitress out to her car tonight.  

The stranger watched as she approached him. Perhaps Jessi was right; maybe she needed to loosen up. It wasn’t like she hadn’t ever flirted, just that generally she had more important things on her mind. What was the harm? Even if she made a fool of herself, she’d probably never see him again after tonight anyway.

“Hey sailor, what’s your poison?” Ella asked, giving the man a smile, she hoped like the coy ones that seemed to always be on hand for her cousin.  Ella missed Jessi’s double take, as well as her nearly bobbling the drink she was serving that would’ve told Ella she’d nailed it.

Dean had been prepared for the question, dropping his gaze thoughtfully, before looking up at her again.  There was a gleam in his eye and a charming smile on his face that never failed. He was well versed in the game Ella had started. In all honesty from the moment he’d noticed her looking at him he'd been both hoping for the flirt and dreading it. Dean found all his well honed skills slipping away when he looked at her directly.

He lost himself in those vivid green cat eyes the color of spring leaves, touched with a softer sea green that hadn’t changed a bit. They captivated him just as much now as they had the first time he’d met her at twelve. Her hair curled around her delicate face and high cheekbones, and there was a lot more of Jessi’s fairy-like features in Ella than he remembered. Her skin was fair and so soft looking in the dimly lit room, her eyes standing out against her smoky eye makeup. The smell of her perfume wrapped around him, something soft and floral with just a touch of spice, a scent guaranteed to drive a man crazy, though that wasn’t why she wore it.

Unlike Jessi, who knew and enjoyed how much she drove men crazy, Ella was an innocent.  Dean could see it in her eyes, despite the interest that glimmered there.  He could see it in the way her hand fluttered above the bar for only a few seconds only to return.  Everything about Ella that attracted wasn’t planned to gain attention or entice men.  Even her flirting, while effective, looked like another skin she’d stepped into and wasn’t entirely comfortable with.  Granted it wasn’t something that would be noticed by the average man, but he’d been trained to read people, to see what others didn’t want him to. Damn it, to his own surprise, he found himself wanting her more for it.

He shook his head reminding himself—as he glanced at Ella again—that he was here to trigger her memories, not get caught up in the memories of the feelings that he’d long ago discarded **.** After all **,** she wasn’t his type. In fact, she was the type he took great pains to avoid, the kind that wasn’t interested in harmless fun, the kind that even if they convinced themselves they were would end up too attached.  

His eyes fell to her lips, unable to help himself from finding them soft and glossy, an invitation to kiss. Memories of the kisses they'd shared slipped through his mind even as he tried to push them away.  It was something he’d always remembered fondly, but looking at the adult version of that girl had him struggling to forget how it had left him reeling. It certainly hadn’t been his first kiss; he’d been sixteen and already hit all the firsts that one could experience with the opposite sex. However, it had been the first time his heart had been involved with the object of his desire.

No one had ever affected him like Ella, no other girl had come close; his heart had nearly pounded out of his chest. He couldn’t help wondering if it’d feel the same way if he kissed her again. He’d never wanted anyone as much as he had her, not before and unfortunately ever since. 

Part of him had always wondered what would’ve happened if John hadn’t taken them away, if Rico hadn’t died and they’d had a couple more years together. He’d let his emotions be controlled by his lust; emotion clouded the senses and confused logic, he reminded himself.

He’d failed his family because of it. He’d been so worried about some girl he barely knew instead of protecting his little brother that Sam had almost died because of it. It was an important lesson, one that had cost him years before his father really trusted him again, and John Winchester had been right. Twice he’d lost his focus and his brother had almost died both those times. Family came first; it had to be first. Sammy was the only thing he should’ve been focused on protecting. It was a mistake he’d never made again.

Ella raised an eyebrow, giving him a slow sexy smile and tilting her head questioningly. 

“Do you need a minute?”

“What’s good?” He finally managed, the words barely getting past the throat that had gone suspiciously dry.

“Well, since you’ve come into an Irish Bar, nothing but Irish will do. Unless you’re a heathen like my cousin here; her Johnny Walker passion is an embarrassment to the family.” The laughter in her voice heated something in him. It had deepened and reminded him of warmed honey, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from following the path of her hand as it slid to the curve of her hip, gently resting there.

“You’ve your own embarrassing quirks,” Jessi retorted—though half-heartedly. She’d been taken aback by Ella’s reaction. Was she flirting with Dean? Jessi couldn’t remember Ella flirting… ever. 

Jessi’s eyes slid to Dean’s that were glued to her cousin’s hand on her hip. Ella wasn’t doing half bad; it looked like this was going to be far more entertaining than she had anticipated.  

“What do you suggest?” Dean asked **,** recovering enough to flash his patented Dean Winchester charming smile and to clasp his hands together in front of him as he leaned on the bar, completely unaware of the fact that he had basically repeated his earlier question. 

Ella smiled and shook her head, making the curls on the top of her head bounce just as charmingly.  

"It depends on if you want the smoothness of the Irish, the bite of the Scotch, or you drink just to get drunk."

Her voice remained easy as she leaned on her forearms on the bar in front of him, her smile widening as she continued to look at him eye to eye. She wasn't certain where any of this was coming from, but she decided to enjoy it rather than question it. 

Usually a man like the one sitting in front of her would've left her replying in a stilted way. She’d have answered him with cool professionalism, efficiently getting his order before moving quickly on to the next customer. But there was something about the man, something that pulled at her. Maybe Jessi had been right about more than her wardrobe choice tonight; as much as she hated to admit it **,** teasing the man in front of her was… well, fun.

"I'm betting the last choice is going to be the wrong answer."

"I'm a bartender; there is no wrong answer. You can try to lie to impress me, but I’d know and you’d lose points.”

“Points, is it?”

“Oh, please, you can’t tell me you don’t rank a woman when you’re talking her up. Both of us are sitting here adding and subtracting points to see if the other is interested in continuing the conversation, or if we’ll be better remaining bartender and customer.”

“Huh. Well to tell you the truth, as a general rule my job doesn't lead to a life of drinking fancy whiskey, no matter how much I'd prefer it." The honesty he replied with surprised Ella; she’d been expecting a smoother answer. He struck her as the type that always knew what to say, but instead he gave her a quick—almost bashful—smile as he looked at his palms and back up at her.  His uncertainty affected her more than any quick easy response could.

It was an admission he hadn't meant to make; it certainly didn't typically add up to a home run with girls when you told them you drank cheap because it was all you could afford. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t there for anything other than to try and help Jessi trigger Ella’s memories.  He certainly wasn't looking to get involved with a girl that was the opposite of everything he usually looked for and off limits on more than one level. 

He wondered if he played chicken with her if she’d back off, he doubted she wanted it to go beyond just flirting and he if pushed she might realize she was in over her head where he was concerned. After all there were no doubts when it came to the games between man and woman, he was a pro.

"Well," she said leaning back and standing with a warm smile.  "We respect those that quietly put their lives on the line for the rest of us. You'll always find a warm meal and a good dram here. I’m Ella.”

“Dean,” he said with another smile and a bite of his lip that shot heat straight through her belly.

She turned, grateful for a moment to pull herself together as she took down a bottle of Jameson Black from the shelf and grabbed a glass from below the bar. She poured a good three fingers before going to her computer and keying in an order.  

"I put in an order for you. I'm guessing you tend to go for hamburgers, but one taste of our Guinness Beef Boxty and you'll think you've died and gone straight to heaven."

“Sounds memorable,” he replied, cocking his head, his hazel eyes dancing as a smile played at the corners of his mouth. She was beginning to wonder if she’d chosen the wrong man to "loosen up with".  Ella could tell he knew too well how she was reacting to him, just as he’d known before when she’d been trying to unnerve him and had failed miserably. He was playing with her, and she wasn’t sure she knew enough of the rules to keep up.

"Since when do you give one of our best whiskeys to a passing Hunter?" Jessi demanded as she passed behind her cousin to grab another bottle.

"Not our best; that would’ve been the 18 year or the Gold. I gave him the Black. We feed and offer a dram to every Guardian and Hunter that passes through, you know that," Ella said, waving her hand dismissively and shooting Jessi a brief glare. 

"But you did pick your favorite," Jessi said lightly with a wide smile as she dropped that bomb and moved out of range before Ella could retaliate.

"You're favorite, huh?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow of his own.

"I think you’ll find it’s smooth and well worth being a favorite," she replied demurely, dropping her gaze as a soft blush spread over her cheeks. "Give me a minute."

He watched as she returned to her job, swiftly filling the order of the waitress waiting at the end of the bar and helping her load the tray. Giving Dean a brief smile, she let herself get lost in her work for a moment.

She needed to get control over herself. She was acting like a lovesick high school girl, mooning over the first good looking guy she'd met.

Still, there had been something in those eyes and smirk that played on his lips, something almost familiar, something that pulled on her, interested her. She tried to push the thought away; it would be naive and stupid of her to let her head be turned by a Hunter. 

He was just passing through, so the most she could hope for would be a quick night that would be over before the first rays of the sun slipped through the window in the morning. Glancing back at him, she found herself wondering if perhaps that one night might be worth it. 

“I’ve got that, Jenny,” Ella called, catching the waitress as she came through with Dean's meal from the kitchen. Taking it, she grabbed a roll of silver wrapped in a white cloth napkin and carried it over herself.  

"Enjoy," she said simply, setting the plate down in front of him and laying the roll of silver next to it.

"If the dinner's as good as the whiskey, then thanks," he replied, giving her that smile again.  

"No problem."

"You called me a Hunter, so you know about..." He trailed off as he thought for a moment before picking up silverware. 

"What goes bump in the night?" she supplied while he unrolled the napkin, setting down the silverware. "My family's been in the business for a while, you could say. We take care of our own."

He looked a little uncomfortable as he put the napkin in his lap. She was betting he didn’t often have a chance to eat in places that actually had cloth napkins instead of a chrome napkin box on the table. Her heart went out to him as she dropped her gaze and wiped the bar, trying to keep him from seeing what he would interpret as pity from her. 

“Thanks again.”

Looking up, she gave him a sweet smile and for the first time since he’d entered the bar he saw the Ella he’d known. Her hand had paused in her cleaning only inches from the fork he’d set down as he put the napkin in his lap. Unable to help himself he gently covered her hand with his much larger one. Her eyes widened.

Unlike Braedan she could’ve pulled her hand away, but she didn’t. When Dean rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand her stomach exploded into butterflies rather than tightening, and she had no desire to bloody his nose.

_She responded instinctively; her heart continued to pound, her skin warmed—though not from a blush._

She shook her head as the momentary vision of a young man with hazel eyes filled her head. Searing pain skimmed through her brain in a flash that was there and then gone. Where in heavens name had that thought come from?


	5. Chapter 5

“Of course,” she said lightly, and after a moment pulled her hand away, confused at her response.  “As I said before, we take care of our own.”

He watched with a small smile as she moved down the bar to help yet another customer, although when she looked back he was engrossed in his meal. She went back to work, thankful business was picking up because it allowed her to focus on filling orders and not requiring her to think at all.

Jessi was keeping an eye on the two of them as she moved through orders fluidly, she didn't pause until she noticed her Uncle Jem heading to the bar. Instantly everything in her froze. It was supposed to be Jem's night off, and he was supposed to have headed off for a date with his wife, Charlotte, over an hour before. There could be only one reason he’d stayed: the family had finished deliberating. Finishing her current order, she met him at the counter as he came through.

"News?" She demanded, her heart beating a little faster. Everything she and Ella wanted to do with their lives depended on whether or not they would even get an opportunity.

"Later. Why don't you and Ella stay after shift for a few and we can talk," Jem told her, bringing through a container of fresh glasses.

"That's going to be tough, Uncle Jem. Ella has class in the morning," Jessi pushed, unable to help herself.

"Make the time," he growled impatiently at her as he went about restocking glasses for them. “You and Ella came to me. You wanted this, so don’t make me regret going to bat for you. Make it top priority.”

She glared at his back before getting back to work. 

Her heart stuttered as her eyes fell on Dean, and she realized that inviting Dean to the bar may have been a mistake. She worked quickly, keeping an eye on her uncle and Dean, praying religiously that Dean would go unnoticed. 

Jessi let out a sigh of relief as Jem finished stocking the glasses and headed for his office. She couldn't be certain if Jem had noticed Dean, and he tended to be more observant than she liked. Hopefully it was busy enough that Jem hadn't seen him. 

It could stir up trouble if he did. She didn't need trouble, especially not now when they were so close to getting things turned around finally. After everything that had happened when they were kids, the family wouldn't want Dean anywhere near Ella for the very reasons she wanted him here.

Calling him may have been a bad idea after all. Glancing up, she caught Dean's eye. His head cocked in curiosity at the look on her face and she returned the look with a quick shake of her head. She tried to put the issue from her mind and focus on the orders.

Ella watched Dean and Jessi, there was some sort of odd tension between the two of them, what exactly it’s nature she couldn’t quite put her finger on, it was curious. It was as if they knew each other, which meant one of two things, the first was that Jessi had been involved with him, the other was that Jessi had been hunting again.

She wasn’t certain which one she hoped it was, granted if Jessi had a fling with the Hunter then that was the end of it, if she’d been hunting again without permission it was possible it could screw up all their plans. She bided her time waiting until he was halfway through his meal and his whiskey was gone. 

“Can I fill you up, or would you rather something less potent?” she asked casually, his eyes met hers again as she leaned against the bar.

“A beer would be great,” he replied, with a nod she picked up a pint glass and began pouring a Black and Tan.

“You’ve had a full meal, Guinness alone is too heavy, but this should hit the spot.”

“Do you always take charge of what your customers drink or am I just lucky?” he asked taking an amused sip.

“I suppose you’re just lucky, was I wrong?”

“No,” he agreed taking another drink.  “This is good.”

“So how do you know my cousin?” she continued to keep her voice casual, but her direct look had him sitting back.

“What makes you think I know her?”

She raised an eyebrow and leaned back, her arms crossing as she said nothing and waited. Dean took a bite as he thought, debating what he could and couldn’t say.

“We worked a job together about six months ago, she talked about the place,” Dean finally told her deciding the bare bones would be best, he didn’t want to lie to her.  She might not remember him but he remembered her and they’d been too close.  He’d respected her when there were few in this world worthy of that respect, that respect carried over.  Ella might have lost her memories but the core of her hadn’t changed.

“Six months ago? She was hunting six months ago, what was it?” She demanded, Dean shrugged.

“A _rusalka_ up near the Great Lakes.”

“She’s going to screw everything up,” Ella muttered, her mind sifting through to six months ago and the call she’d gotten from Jessi. “Boning up on her lore, I can’t believe I fell for that bullshit.”

“What?” Dean looked at her confusion clouding his eyes.

“Let me guess, she found the boy that the _rusalka_ had killed herself over, made him confess to his wife he was cheating, thereby avenging the ghost and putting her to rest.”

“Yeah, pretty much,”

“Do me a favor, don’t encourage her,” Ella ground out between clenched teeth not sure who she was angrier at, herself for witlessly helping Jessi, or Jessi for hunting in the first place. 

“What gives?”

“Just promise me that if she wants in on a hunt, you won’t let her.”

“Sure, on one condition,” Dean replied a smile tugging at his lips again, a warmth in his gaze.

“You mean dinner isn’t enough?” She smiled in return as she looked at him from under her lashes, she felt his eyes drop to her lips again before he returned his gaze to hers.

“To keep Jessi out of a hunt, no.”

“How long have you known Jessi?”

Again Dean paused taking the opportunity to fill his mouth with a bite, it was interesting that when it came to her cousin he didn’t want to talk, it only made her more curious.

“Long enough,” Dean muttered, but didn’t elaborate.

“Obviously,” Ella returned, narrowing her eyes at him and leaning forward on the bar to better read his expressions. “If you’re not willing to keep her out of trouble because you know how much of a pain in the ass she’ll be, it wasn’t just a quick one and done job with you. I don’t care how much of a handful she was on the _rusalka_ job.”

“We’ve known each other a little while, my dad worked with your family once back when I was a kid. We happened on a couple of the same cases here and there over the years, it’s not like the pool is particularly deep.”

“Were you involved?”

He choked on his beer, barely managing to keep from spraying it all over her. His face turned red with the force of his coughing, she was beginning to wonder if he was going to survive, when he finally got control of himself.

“No, God no,” was his husky response, his eyes still watering from inhaling the beer.

“So what was your condition?”

“My what?”

“Your condition to keep my cousin out of the hunt?” Ella asked more out of curiosity rather than guile. There was an innocence in her, one that didn’t realize she was leaving him any openings.

“I could probably ask for anything right now…”

“And I could say no and tell my Uncle Jem that you’re here,” Ella cut him off her eyes hooding and going cold. It was interesting how quickly she shut down. “We have too much at stake to let Jessi hunt and you don’t want to know what he’ll do when he finds out you’ve been hunting with her. This is his territory and he’s got connections that would screw your world six ways to Sunday.”

“I was just going to ask for a drink after your shift,” he replied giving her an innocent look and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. His lips spread into a boyishly impish grin.  “What did you think I was going to ask for?”

“I’m a bartender, I’ve heard it all sweetheart.”

It was rare for a woman to throw an endearment at him with the same sarcasm that he usually used himself, just as unusual as it was for him to find himself as interested in any woman the same way as Ella. It could be a dangerous thing, but for some reason he couldn’t help himself.

“I know a place a few blocks down, nothing alcoholic if that’s what you’re hoping for, but it’s an all-night diner. We go there from time to time when we’re too keyed up after a shift to go straight to bed and I have a study group that meets there.” Ella offered.

“Any pie?”

“Usually, it’s good too, they have a deal with the woman that owns a coffee shop a few blocks the other direction. I usually get breakfast there for Jessi and I in the mornings before I have class.”

“What time’s your class tomorrow?”

“Luckily not until around eleven, it’ll give me a chance to sleep until nine,” Ella replied with a shrug, she looked as if she were going to say more, but one of her other customers hailed her again. She gave Dean a smile of regret before she slipped down the bar to help them.

Dean couldn't stop himself from watching her walk away, a low whistle emitting from his lips at the provocative sway of her hips. Unlike Jessi, Ella didn't try, it was entirely natural.

All flirting had flown out of Jessi’s head, instead she worked steadily, focusing on what Jem had told her. Her mind chased itself around and around worrying about his response, or more to the point, lack of. 

She couldn't be sure yet if their request for a conclave had been accepted, if they would get a chance to present their case and overturn the ruling that they never be allowed to hunt. Jessi couldn't stay out of the field. She never had been able too. It found her, whether she wanted it to or not, forcing her to fight for survival.

If the ruling wasn't overturned, then she would end up finding herself outcast by the family eventually for hunting when unauthorized. It wouldn't matter whether she was actively hunting or not. It was a very precarious position for her to be in.

Ella on the other hand had lost her drive altogether for actively hunting. It grated on Jessi to this day. Nana had cast a spell on them, all of them, but Ella had gotten the worst of it. Her powers had been completely bound and her memories wiped of everything she was.

She had no idea how Nana had managed to get the conclave to agree to that decision, but it didn't matter any longer. She wouldn't get it overturned, not that. Ella had been poisoned by that evil. Whatever had attacked them that night had poisoned her, compromised her. At least in the eyes of the family, Jessi hadn’t ever believed that Ella wasn’t strong enough to fight any poison.

She had survived hadn’t she? Something no one else had ever managed; it was the fear of Ella turning, going dark that had Nana binding her powers and stripping her of her memories. Her cousin’s powers had been too strong to risk it.

The Guardian's wouldn't allow the chance of her turning. However, they might allow Ella to be the brains behind the scene without ever raising a finger of her own.

It wasn't a perfect solution, it wasn't even close to Jessi's ideal solution, but she would take it for now. If it was all she could get. It still kept her close to her cousin, working with her, even if it was from a distance and they could still be a team of sorts.

Everything inside Jessi screamed that what had happened, what was going on, was never how it was supposed to be. They were meant for something more, something greater. Nana had robbed them of that when they had been fourteen.

Thankfully, her Uncle Jem had always agreed. He had ensured that they continue to train by sending Guardian's and Hunter's alike through their Aunt Ellen's neck of the woods. Guardians and Hunters that would gladly turn a blind eye to the politics of their family, and happily train with the girls.

It had meant sneaking out late at night from their Aunt Ellen's, but that had been a blast. She had so many great memories tied up in those nights when she’d snuck out with Ella, bringing their baby cousin Jo along for the ride.

Their Aunt Ellen wanted nothing to do with the active life. She supported the Hunters and Guardians' alike, but she refused to actively participate in the field and wanted her daughter as far away from it as humanly possible. If Ellen had ever guessed what they had been up to they all would have been skinned alive.

Thankfully, through the grace of God she had never found out, though they'd had some really close calls. If it hadn't been for Ella's quick thinking and Jessi's ability to shut Jo up, they probably would have been throttled within an inch of their lives.

"Jessi!" the voice snapped her out of her musing and she turned to see Ella flagging her down. She finished pouring the drink she was making and slid it over to the Officer with a wink before trotting down the bar to her cousin.

"What's up Ella?"

"Where the hell were you?" Ella demanded, her voice low, studying Jessi carefully.

"Lost in my own thoughts. Jem wants us to stay after shift, he has news." Jessi answered in her own undertone.

"What kind of news?" Ella's eyebrows raised.

"Your guess is as good as mine. He wasn't exactly talkative." Jessi responded with a touch of irritation.

"Well hopefully it has nothing to do with your recent hunts. What in God’s name were you thinking, Jessi?" Ella demanded, her eyes flashing as she worried about what the news may be. “You know better; you know what’s on the line.”

Jessi flinched and shot a glare at Dean, not that he was paying attention.

"It's not like you think, Ella." Jessi responded, grabbing Ella's arm and squeezing lightly until her cousin met her eyes, " I wasn't actively out searching for hunts. I swear that to you. It just found me, like they always do and always have. Dean happened to get mixed up in it with me."

"He mentioned it." Ella said watching her cousin's eyes carefully and reading the truth in them. She still wanted to knock Jessi over the head with something, but how could she really fault her for something she couldn't escape, even when she tried.

"How did it come up?" Jessi asked curiously, and she immediately felt Ella's discomfort at the question.

"I asked how you two knew each other, because you obviously do." Ella answered, meeting Jessi's gaze head on.

"You didn't think..." Jessi's voice trailed off, her face going a little green as she swallowed convulsively.

"Well, damn it Jessi. You've seen you. You know the impact you have on men and well, it's not like he doesn't fall within a type you could easily wrap." Ella said defensively, though seeing her cousin's response so similar to that of Dean's had her inwardly relaxing. Whatever else was going on between them, a romance had not been one of them.

"No, hell no. We've worked together, a couple of times when I got dragged into something I shouldn't have. He's saved my ass, I've saved his, thanks in a large part to your help."

"The _rusalka_?" Ella asked curiously.

"Uh, huh." Jessi said with a roll of her eyes.

"He didn't go in with any protection charms?"

"Nope."

"I suppose for him it was a good thing you were there, but regardless, Jessi, you have got to quit finding trouble, especially right now. It could screw everything up!" Ella said, sounding far too admonishing. Jessi refused to let it get her back up, the reality was that Ella was absolutely right. It could, and would screw everything up.

"I know; I promise I will do my best." Jessi said emphatically.

Ella sighed, her eyes shifting to where Dean still sat and Jessi followed her gaze. He was sipping a beer and had devoured the meal Ella had been so generous to provide him.

Jessi's eyes narrowed at Dean. Taking a deep breath, she let the irritation roll off her before looking back at Ella and seeing a peculiar yearning in her cousin's eyes.

"What's going on Ella?" Jessi asked, her voice soft.

"He asked me out. I was going to go grab a drink with him after shift." Ella said, her eyes looking at anything but Jessi. Jessi sighed inwardly and put on a bright smile.

"Well, if he's worth anything he'll understand that tonight won't work and will let you move it to tomorrow or another day." Jessi said while envisioning ways she could severely damage Dean. He wasn't supposed to be hitting on her cousin!

"I suppose we could still do it after we talk to Jem." Ella said her voice thoughtful, a dreamy look moving through her eyes. Jessi swallowed down the instant panic.

"You have class in the morning don't you?" Jessi asked off handedly, trying desperately to keep her voice light. Ella's eyes finally came up to meet Jessi's. Ella's eyes rolled, the dreamy look passed as quickly as it had appeared. Jessi sent a quick prayer up that Ella hadn't completely lost herself already.

"Since when do you care if I have class in the morning?" Ella asked with a laugh and a light hip bump. Jessi reciprocated, though not quite as lightly and stuck her tongue out at Ella for good measure.

"Only since your schooling became beneficial to me." Jessi responded with her typical sass and a light toss of her head to exaggerate the absurdity of her statement.

Ella laughed and shooed Jessi away.

"Alright, smart ass, skedaddle. Back to your side of the bar and your love sick beaus." Ella said good naturedly. Jessi sighed inwardly, disaster averted, for now. She'd kill Dean later, before her cousin could really miss him.

Jessi watched curiously as Ella headed around the other side of the bar, pausing to square her shoulders before she walked to where Dean was finishing his beer.

Jessi finished her current order before leaning against the bar to watch. She had no idea what Ella was up to, but it was making her nervous.

Ella paused in front of Dean as he turned his chair to face her, leaning back. She couldn’t help the way her heart raced and her stomach churned. She knew that canceling on him would mean she’d probably never see him again, but there was no help for it. The job had to be more important, she couldn’t blow it all on a guy.  Besides Jessi was right he was a Hunter, if he didn’t understand her dedication to the same cause even one night wasn’t worth it.

There was a part of her yearning for that time with him, even if it was only one night, it would be one night more than she’d ever allowed herself to have before. One night she could take out when she was older and settled, one night that she’d never forget, one night for her to experience what she’d been too busy for, too afraid to allow herself to have. 

“Your shift can’t be over already.” Dean looked at her in surprise as he set his empty glass down and studied her.

“No.” she replied softly biting her lip for a moment.  “I’m not so lucky, but about later…”

“You can’t make it.”

“I have family business I have to take care of tonight,” she said, encouraged that she saw disappointment flash across his face.  “You know how it is, but maybe another time?”

“Family business?” he asked and for a moment she could’ve sworn she saw concern flash across his face before it went expressionless. “A case?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug.   “It’s possible it could turn into one, but I’m not certain.”

He could feel her dancing around the truth the same way he had earlier when she had brought up Jessi. Though he’d been forced to dance around the truth with her, there was literally only so much he could tell her. Words that could lead anywhere close to what happened when they were kids were physically incapable of coming out of his mouth. Rosalia Jameson had been sure to tie that loose end good and tight.

This was probably for the best, he wasn’t even certain where the idea to ask her out had even come from, let alone how it actually slipped out of his mouth. Nevertheless, he was disappointed, and he wasn't sure he was comfortable with that at all.

He’d used her flirting with him to talk with her like Jessi had suggested, but it was clear that seeing him hadn’t jogged anything loose, hadn't brought anything back. Part of him wanted to believe with a little more time, maybe it would work, while the other part of him had known from the beginning it never would. As with plenty of Jessi’s schemes it was a bust. Though he found he couldn't help wishing, right along with Jessi, that it hadn't been.

“Well, I’ll see you around Ella.” He said shrugging into his coat and reaching into his pocket for cash. She read his intentions like an open book.

“I meant what I said, it’s on the house, same for any other Hunter,” Ella put her hand on his shaking her head.  “Really, you’ll insult me if you try to pay me a dime. We buy a round for the fire department, or the police force after they’ve put their lives on the line, you job is more likely to get you killed than theirs, which says a lot.”

“So it’s a last meal?” Dean asked with a wry smile, the irony didn't escape him.

“You can’t tell me it couldn’t be,” Ella pointed out as he stood. He was only inches from her, forcing her to tilt her head to see him, which normally would’ve been annoying, but only seemed right in the moment. Her heart fluttered at his nearness, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“No, I can’t.”

The truth of the statement squeezed at her heart, the idea that in a few months she might hear that he’d been killed bothered her far more than she’d expected. For the first time in years she didn’t think about what she did, instead she let herself react instinctively. Placing her hands on his chest and moving to the balls of her feet she leaned up and kissed him. 


	6. Chapter 6

It was soft and sweet; he could practically taste the innocence in the kiss despite the fact it was by no means chaste. His heart beat doubled and he responded before he realized what he was doing, letting his hands slip to the sides of her face, caressing her ever so gently and deepening the kiss. 

As she pulled back he realized he was surrounded by a chorus of whistles and hoots, dazedly he found it was the firefighters. He blinked rapidly, completely unable to process what had just happened, much less the chaos something so simple was wrecking in his body. He was on fire, and she’d done nothing more than kiss him.

He had a brief vision of dragging her off somewhere, anywhere, before he shook his head in an attempt to clear it. She was everything he usually avoided, but Ella’s innocence had always tasted sweet making him lose his head and want more no matter the cost or the strings that would be attached.

“Go back to your drinks,” Ella laughed good naturedly waving her hand in a shooing motion at them before she walked away. She left him standing there in complete confusion, watching her hips sway, as she rounded the corner of the bar to slip back to her post. She met his gaze with a slow sassy smile, that shot straight to his gut. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around Dean, if you’re in this part of the country again, don’t be a stranger.”

“Uh, yeah,” he barely managed to get out of a mouth gone dry and a tongue gone thick. He rubbed his neck and carefully avoided Jessi’s glare as he turned to leave the bar.

Ella watched him go, her heart sinking a little, although for the first time she didn’t feel as if she’d entirely missed an opportunity.  It was a heady feeling to know she’d taken what she wanted, done what she wanted and for once she hadn’t spent so much time weighing the pros and cons that an experience just slipped by.  Jessi snagged her arm before she could get to the next customer.

“Hey, I need to clear my head, I’m taking ten,” Jessi told her cousin not bothering to wait for a response. Ella nodded and went back to work.

She watched as Jessi moved through the crowd with a determination that had her almost feeling sorry for Dean when Jessi caught up to him. There was no doubt, whatsoever, that poor Dean was going to get the riot act for her stunt.

A wistful smile touched her lips as she found she was only more thankful she’d kissed him. After Jessi got done with him there’d be little to no chance she’d ever see the man again. 

Jessi stormed after Dean, catching him as he stepped into the cool crisp air, not caring for one of the few times in her life that it was freezing. She could see the black ice on the sidewalks and the street both, which made her thankful she lived up above the pub, as well as had her wondering if she could use it to break Dean’s neck.

“What the hell is wrong with you Winchester, I said flirt not make a move.” she called out ignoring the group that was streaming around her as they headed into the pub. “I warned you.

“Ella’s not a little girl anymore Jessi, she kissed me not the other way around,” Dean snapped out, stopping and whirling to face her. 

 “You didn’t help it by asking her out.”

 “I don’t know what that was Jessi, maybe it was just reflex,” Dean sighed, his muscles practically vibrated in his confusion and she could clearly read the frustration in his eyes.  “It doesn’t matter anyway; I can’t play this game with her.  It was stupid to think I could. She obviously doesn’t remember me and there are too many strings with a girl like her. We both know if I stick around she’s going to want more than I can give her.  I’m heading out, sorry it didn’t work out like you wanted it to.”

“Dean…” Jessi’s voice stopped him from turning and walking away.  She could feel the hurt mixed in with that confusion and frustration. Seeing Ella again, knowing who she was, knowing who she’d been with him and still not knowing him, it’d wounded that heart Dean liked to pretend couldn’t be touched. As much as she wanted to comfort him, he wouldn’t thank her for it.

 “Thanks for trying, I’m sorry I got you all mixed up in this.” Jessi sighed and got a short jerk of his head as acknowledgment.

“Don’t worry about it Jessi, see you around,” he told her before turning away.

She watched as he took a few steps, expecting him to disappear into the crowd, instead he turned to look back at her.  Knowing him as well as she did she could tell even without using her powers there was something bothering him, something he wasn’t sure he should get mixed up in but something he just couldn’t walk away from. 

 “So this family business,” Dean said finally, Jessi just waited. “Ella said it might be a hunt. Your family isn’t thinking of sending her out without her memories are they?”

“No,” Jessi assured him with an assuring smile.  “Unless her memory comes back there’s no way they’ll let her in the field, maybe not even then. She wants to be a Historian.”

“A what?” Dean asked in confusion. She had a moment to wish he had been around the farm longer to really get a grasp of their history, it would make this much easier.

“A Historian.  I mentioned it when I called you,” she repeated running her hand through her hair and trying to think of the easiest way to explain it. “The Guardian’s used to have individuals with the blood for the job, but not the instincts for the field to work as the brains working behind the scenes, to complement the muscle out in the field. They called them Historians. Jem does some semblance of it now, coordinating hunts, finding the more obscure lore, sending out a cleanup crew to keep our allies, both Guardian and Hunter off the police’s radar. He keeps our archives and ensures we have the information we need on anything we run across noted for the generations that come after us. Eventually Ella wants to take over most of what Jem does and run the hunts for our House and allies, to send them out on cases based on their particular talents. Her theory is that by focusing the House and sending people out according to what best suites their abilities we’ll boost our numbers again by decreasing fatalities.”

“And what happened to those Historians?” Dean’s eyes were narrowed as he watched her carefully. She could see the wheels turning, there was something he’d thought of in just those few moments as she'd spoke that had him on edge. There was something she’d missed and she wasn’t sure how that had happened or what it could even be.

“We’ve been dying out, we’ve needed everyone in the field, Ella’s the first in centuries with the capability and the know-how to even take on the task with any possibility of success.”

“Who protected them?”

“What do you mean?” Jessi asked impatiently, running through every possibility she could think of to figure out what had upset him about any of it.

“I mean," Dean fumed, furious that Jessi hadn’t seen it for herself, or more likely hadn’t wanted to see it. "You have a group of people that are coordinating the efforts of all those available to hunt, you have organization and focus. You have delegated purpose and the ability to deploy the best man for each job. Do you think the other team is just going to sit by and let you pick them off?"

"Of course not, but it gives us an upper hand. We'll be able to protect more people and eradicate more evil." Jessi responded still unsure as to what he was getting at, he rubbed a hand over his face, when it came to Ella, Jessi could be so clueless sometimes.  Ella would’ve known the danger and she’d play on Jessi’s lack of information and need to have Ella working with her again. Jessi wouldn’t ask questions, she would be blinded by her need to simply work with her cousin again.

"Why don't you have them anymore, Jessi? How did they die? Were they targeted? I can't imagine that Ella wouldn't be the very first thing the other side would go after if she managed to be successful. You kill the brains, the organization, the puppet master so to speak, you suddenly have the ability to destroy your opponent. Did it ever occur to you why the Historian's died out?”

In dawning horror Jessi remembered history lessons from her training as a kid, most of the notable Historians had died as horribly as the Guardians they helped, and often times far more brutally than those in the field. Many of them had been captured, tortured, used horribly before death had ever come, by that time death had been more of a gift than a punishment.

Jessi wasn’t certain who she was angrier at, herself for not seeing it, or Ella for not telling her.  

This was something else and it wasn’t something Ella would’ve missed or that Jem wouldn’t have taken into account when they’d gone to him with the request. She immediately felt sick at the thought, and quite frankly deceived.

“S…She’s…never alone,” Jessi stuttered, her heart in her throat.  “I’ll make sure she’s guarded, we all will.”

“And what happens when something like what happened to your Uncle Rico happens again? What do you do if you have absolutely no choice other than to leave her unprotected?"

"I won't leave her unprotected."

"Really? What happens when evil rears its ugly head to divide and conquer? You and I know there’s no way to keep quiet on what Ella’s doing. Something is going to figure it out and then they’ll come for her, Jessi. All they have to do is make sure everyone is in the field and disorganization is once again the name of the game. Did you honestly think that there wasn’t a reason that both Hunters and Guardians have become a disorganized mess?”

“As I said, we’ll keep her safe.” Jessi snapped, her head spinning. He was right. She knew he was right and she was going to need time to think on all of this. Knowing what could come though was the best defense possible. Now that it was something she was aware of, a weakness that could be exploited, she wouldn't allow it to happen. She would do whatever was necessary to keep Ella safe while she fought tooth and nail to make sure the rest of the family followed suit. She would talk to Jem about it, alone. If Ella was there, Jessi wouldn't have a chance to get a word in edgewise, she’d minimize any worry Jessi had.

She had to fight not to take her frustration out on Dean, he was there, so close, and so completely irritatingly right.  It was everything she should’ve seen and hadn’t because she’d been so thankful to have Ella back, in whatever capacity available. She wasn’t about to thank him for pointing out how she’d blinded herself to the truth.

“I’m not leaving here until I know she’s safe,” Dean told her heatedly.

“My family has all the resources we...”

“Sorry, but your family protecting her means jack shit to me, Jessi,” Dean argued, cutting her off mid-sentence, continuing on with brutal honesty.  “Your cousin almost died, my brother almost died, all because your family was so sure of their invulnerability. We both know that Rico made a stupid mistake, we both know he almost cost your family and mine, everything. When the shit hit the fan they had no idea what to do or how to handle it. There was nothing but chaos, Jessi. A chaos that turned an already tragic death into nearly three, and ended up causing a second one before it was done.”

 “So what is it you want me to do, Dean, what is it you think you're going to do?” Jessi demanded, her anger igniting at the accusations regardless of the truth behind them.  “What can you do, what can I do? This was Ella's idea, Dean. Her's. It was her brain child and there is nothing I could say or do to stop her, you know how she is.  Once she gets an idea, especially one that she’s this passionate about she might as well be a Pitbull with a locked jaw, nothing is going to make her let go of this, nothing."

"I don't know what the answer is!" Dean growled at her, frustration rolling from him in waves, "Damn it Jessi, you’re the one that dragged me into all this."

"I'm more than aware! Would it have been better if I had left her to it? Should I have just told her I wasn't interested.”

“Of course not, Jessi. You know damn well that isn't what I meant. I just don't see how this ends well for any of you, least of all Ella, and now I’m a part of it. I’m not leaving until I know she’s going to be okay.”

“Why?” Jessi asked scornfully. “I’m pretty sure the last time she was in trouble you were out the door before you even knew if she was really okay.”

“That’s unfair Jessi," Dean flinched at her words. She could see the anger and guilt in his eyes. "She'd already forgotten who I was before we ever made it out the door.”

Jessi studied him, she could feel the confusion rolling off of him, the internal battle he was having with himself. He wasn't even sure why he couldn't leave, but he needed to see this through, to make sure Ella was safe. Maybe it was because he hadn't been able to before and couldn't walk away again. Jessi rubbed her forehead before she crossed her arms against the cold that had finally begun to penetrate the anger.

“I’m not going to convince you to go, am I?”

“No,” Dean stated firmly.  “How often does she go to class by herself, out to the store, or close up the bar by herself?”

“She doesn’t close up the bar by herself.”

“She’s never left alone after everything’s locked up and you’re heading upstairs?”

“It’s warded.”

“And so was the farm,” Dean pointed out.  “All those things ever need is a minute, one minute.”

“So what are you going to do, follow her around?” Jessi laughed sarcastically.

“If I have to.”

“She’ll make you in five minutes easy, if not well before.”

“Please,” Dean muttered. “It’s not exactly my first rodeo.”

“It’s not hers either, the more the dreams come, the more of her instincts have been waking up,” Jessi told him. “But have fun trying. Just do me a favor alright? Keep off my uncle’s radar. If the family knew you were here, it could get ugly.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, and Dean, it’d be really stupid of you to toy with my cousin.”

“Really and why’s that?”

“Sam’s at Stanford isn’t he?” Jessi asked sweetly.

“That would be a very stupid idea,” Dean’s voice was a warning, a dark warning.

“Hurting Ella would be just as stupid.”

“I get it,” he snapped. “Now where’s the coffee shop she normally gets the two of you breakfast from? Which routes does she take to school and which classes does she take and when.”

“I’ll call you later Dean, I have to get back now. I've already been gone longer than I should have been.” Jessi told him.

 If she didn't get inside in the next thirty seconds it was highly likely she’d become a permanent ice sculpture outside the bar.

"You better call me, Jessi." Dean called as she turned to head back inside. “I’ll figure it out on my own but it would make things easier with your help.”

She only nodded, her head full of the things he had said. As angry as it made her, he was right about a lot of it, which only served to piss her off more.

They had failed Ella and Sam miserably when Rico had died and the consequences of that failure were still haunting them. They'd lost Granda just days later trying to get the wards back up and the evil eradicated from the farm.

One more thing that Ella didn't know, couldn't know. More than half of Ella's life was nothing but vague shadowy memories because the reality had been taken from her, and they had no intention of ever giving it back to her.

Jessi paused just inside the doors turning to watch as Dean left in the Impala. She couldn't decide if calling him had been a monumental mistake or not.

She moved through the crowd, lost in her thoughts and didn't see her Uncle until she'd nearly ran straight into him. Her head snapped up as he grabbed her arm and ushered her unceremoniously into the storage room.

Fighting him would have been a useless waste of energy.

"What was Dean Winchester doing here?" he snapped at her as he shut the door and turned back around to face her.

A million thoughts swirled through her head, and she couldn't latch onto a single one of them.

"He was just passing through town, Uncle Jem." she sighed in exhaustion as she closed her eyes and again rubbed her temple.

"Really, Jessi?" Jem asked, she could practically taste his sarcasm. Her eyes opened and she studied her uncle, he was imposing at best, at worst…well, it would be better if she didn't push to his worst.

"Really, Uncle Jem, I think he said he's headed up to see Bobby. I'd told him about the bar the last time I worked with him, and he decided to make an impromptu visit,” Jessi lied glibly, Jem could only glare at her knowing there was no way to prove she was lying. 

"He’d better be on his way out of town because you two already have me fighting a battle that is near impossible to win. If he sticks around and the family finds out, it isn't going to go well for either of you.  You’ll be loading the ammunition to shoot yourself in the foot." he growled at her.

"I know, Uncle Jem." she told him, regretting the fact that she was lying to him already. Things never worked out well when she lied to her Uncle.

"Get to work, I'll see you in a couple hours." he muttered, dismissing her as he opened the door and walked swiftly back towards his office.

She followed him out feeling more tired than she did after a hunt. Things had just gotten seriously complicated, again, and she had nobody but herself to blame, not that it was unusual.

The girls finished out the night both exhausted by the time they closed down. The downside was that it was almost three in the morning before they finished checking the closer’s stations and the prep for the morning had been completed.

Ella yawned as she closed the door behind Jenny and Sean. Locking the door, she turned to join Jessi as they trudged up the stairs to the second floor where Jem’s office was just down the hallway from their apartment. 

Part of Jessi worried about Ella’s lack of sleep lately, but more of her was furious over her argument with Dean. The pieces that had fallen into place after talking to him were spinning around and around.  She’d been chewing on her frustration and anger until she was physically feeling sick over it. 

The more she stewed on it, the more it grated on her, and the more her exhaustion began to slide away to make room for the simmering fury. From the moment Dean had pointed it out, the history lessons Granda had taught them whirled through her mind, lessons that had her seriously worried. Lessons that Ella wouldn’t have forgotten and Jem would’ve reminded her of when she’d first brought up the idea.

Plopping down into one of the chair situated in front of Jem’s desk harder than necessary Jessi stared at her uncle stone faced as he put his paperwork down and peered at her questioningly. 

His news was more important than what she had to say and probably more necessary. No matter how angry she was, she wouldn’t change Ella’s mind, and in all honesty Jessi wasn’t certain she wanted too. When it came down to it, dangerous or not, this was her only hope at keeping the woman that was more a sister than a cousin in her life.

Fighting to focus on the matter at hand, she studied her uncle noting Jem wasn’t showing any signs of concern, but then it was nearly impossible to read him. A surge of hope filled her that perhaps the Conclave might have accepted their request. She forced down the thought that perhaps it might be better if the Conclave refused, eyeing Ella with barely suppressed irritation as she lowered into the chair next to her. 

Ella was wound up, though whether that was because of the meeting or Dean, Jessi couldn’t be sure. There was a part of her cousin that had remained dormant for far too long that was coming out. She sat on the edge of the chair as if ready to push it back to get it out of the way for a fight, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes trained on Jem’s every movement.

Jessi could see some of the girl Ella had once been, she'd been fighting for so long to bring that back out, but it’d been Dean that had finally been able to reach her. She wasn’t certain if she should be glad for it or worried.

She hadn't been joking with Dean. She would find a way to ruin him if he played with her cousin. Ella didn't deserve that. Furthermore, the whole family would go absolutely ballistic if they found out he was here and pursuing Ella in any way. No matter what, it was bound to end badly.

There was a part of her that simply wanted to sit back and watch the show, there was no doubt in her mind it would be a good one. She could already see that Ella had brought something out in Dean, something she hadn’t seen in him since they’d been younger. There was a protectiveness and emotion she hadn’t seen on his face in years. 

Oh, she’d seen the smirk, the interested smile, his eyes hooded with the promise of the random girls he entertained himself with, but she hadn’t seen him have more than a passing interest. Even the girls she’d seen him save hadn’t brought the same look into his eyes that she’d seen earlier. There was something about how they responded to one another that had always seemed much deeper to her.

The reality is that she’d always believed they were perfect for each other, it might’ve started through the eyes of a naïve child, but having watched them tonight, she found that it still rang true. There was something about how they connected to one another that she’d seen in only one other place, her parents.

"Jessi?" Jem's voice snapped her out of her wayward thoughts.

"Uncle Jem." she responded, trying to clamp down on her irritation. It was late, she was tired, it couldn’t possibly be surprising that her mind would check out?

"What's the news, Uncle Jem." Ella said in a light tone, bringing his attention to her and off of her fuming cousin. She really wasn't in the mood for the two of them to waste time arguing, she was sure the anger was more directed at her anyway.

There was something about Dean that had set Jessi off, something that she wasn’t happy about. Ella fought the smile back, it would be just like Jessi to push her into relaxing and having some fun only to be pissed about who she chose to do it with, more than likely Jessi was worried about her being able to handle a man like the Hunter. It would be better to try and keep the focus on the conversation at hand and deal with her cousin’s pissy attitude later. 

"They have agreed to consider your request, with stipulations." Jem told them, his eyes moving between each of them. 

Jessi sat up straighter, her body going slightly rigid.

"Consider?" Jessi asked, her voice colored with frustration, it was right there. She could practically taste it, they were so close and so far away. 

"Before you get your back up Jessi, just listen." Jem told her firmly giving her a pointed look that had her backing down a touch.

"What stipulations?" Ella questioned, her voice giving away her own frustration.

"They want to see you two actually perform the duties that you’re fighting for the right to perform. Jessi, you will be going out on what they are terming a test hunt. Ella, you will run it for her, with my guidance. I do not yet have a hunt I am comfortable sending you out on Jessamyn. Once we have something, Ella, I will be pulling you in and you will run through the logistics of it, determine what tools Jessi will need, how long she should be gone roughly, and what information she will need to complete the hunt successfully."

Jem’s voice was matter of fact as he spoke to them, the gravity of it not escaping either of the girls. 

"Why do I feel like there is a but to this?" Jessi asked suspiciously, trying to contain her excitement about the fact that she was finally going to get to go out on a condoned hunt. 

"Because there is one, this is by no means a guarantee, or an approval. If it, and only if this hunt runs smoothly as well, will they move for you to function under a trial basis for an extended period of time. If during this time you manage to handle things as I expect you will, they will consider agreeing to a vote. Even if they go that far, there is no guarantee that you will be allowed to do what you’re asking for. Nana's voice is loud ladies. It took an awful lot of maneuvering on my part to get them to even allow this."

"Are they setting us up to fail, Jem?" Ella asked the question that Jessi was thinking, her eyes boring into his. Ella had a strange feeling that something wasn't quite right about this, without thinking she placed a hand on Jessi’s arm. Her cousin had gone suspiciously still after Jem had finished talking, she could feel the anger rolling off of her.

"Not to fail, but there are a lot of factors to consider in this decision Ella. There are numerous dangers with opening this door up to both of you and that fact hasn't escaped the Elders, and Nana isn't about to let any chance to win this fight go."

 


	7. Chapter 7

"It makes sense," Jessi said, her voice eerily quiet, an undertone layering it that neither Jem nor Ella had heard before. In unison they both turned to study her, waiting for her to continue. “Well it makes more sense to me now.”

Jessi stood, completely unable to stay in her seat, her anger on the verge of strangling her if she didn’t say something. She hadn't intended to have this conversation with Ella present, but the reality was that she couldn't hold it back. Dean had opened her eyes and she understood now exactly what it was they had asked the conclave for.

“What are you talking about, Jessi?” Ella asked after she exchanged looks with their uncle.

"I’m talking about that target we’re placing on your back, Ella. In fact, I find I’m not really surprised that it's taken as long as it has to get this far, or that they’re undecided." Jessi's voice was calm while she paced the floor in short spurts, the tension surrounding her practically visible.

Ella flinched and looked at Jem, who only raised an eyebrow.

"What's your point Jessamyn?" Jem asked, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his desk, watching her carefully. She whirled on them both, stopping in her pacing, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"My point? I would’ve thought it was obvious. The two of you never thought once in the entire time we’ve been doing this to mention exactly what Ella was asking for. I thought I was the one who came up with the hair brained schemes, but apparently I’m not alone in them. Why in God’s name did you decide to just leave me in the dark? Did you think, 'oh it won't occur to her; she'll never realize what we’re trying to get the Elders to approve'," Jessi's voice was quiet, but deadly.

Ella's own eyes flashed as she stood to face Jessi. Jem sat back, choosing to stay out of range, at least for the moment. “That’s not fair, Jessi. It wasn’t that we were trying to hide it from you; I just didn’t see any need to worry you about how difficult it would be.”

“Screw that, Ella. I deserved to know the details,” Jessi’s voice punched through Ella, only igniting her anger.

"You’re making a bigger deal out of this than you need to," Ella responded. Her voice held that note of reasonability that made her sound patronizing.

"Like hell I am, Ella!” Jessi fought to keep from screaming the words in her frustration. “I might not have the same interests that you do, and I might not know my history as well, but I’m not a fucking idiot. You played me. You knew damn well I would never think about what happened to the Historians and why there aren’t any left. In fact, I'd be willing to bet you banked on it!"

"I wouldn't be in any more danger than you will in the field.” Ella’s voice was dangerously calm. Slowly she took a step towards Jessi, her hands unintentionally balled into fists.

"Bullshit! We’ve caused more damage in this ongoing battle when we've had Historians running the show from behind the scenes. We were tipping the scales, pushing the darkness back and it was losing. Because of it, the majority of the Historians were hunted mercilessly,” Jessi argued. “They were one by one hunted down by the creatures that were willing to throw aside their own vendettas with each other to take out a larger threat. You would be that threat! You would have more coming for you then I can possibly imagine, and you don’t even have the drive or blood lust to protect yourself against the coming storm."

“If you want me as your partner, Jessi, this is the only way you’re going to get it,” Ella snapped back.  “This is the only chance I have at being a part of the fight, and I'm damn good at it. You want me by your side so damn much, well, this is the only way you’re going to have it. I am not defenseless, Jessi.”

"You don't have the fight to fend off that kind of attack, and you damn well know it. What happens when they have us all chasing after some apocalypse and you're here, unprotected, left alone because each and every one of us is needed on the outside to keep the world from ending. You can’t tell me they aren’t more than capable of putting together exactly that kind of scheme."

"That idea is completely ludicrous, Jessi. It won't happen. I won't be unprotected," Ella said dismissively. “The family wouldn’t let me do it, if I weren’t capable of it.”

Jessi looked at Jem, still sitting in his chair saying nothing waiting for them to finish before he finally spoke.

"Am I wrong?" Jessi demanded, her voice vibrating with the force of her anger.

"You’re not," Jem responded, causing Jessi to throw up her hands and shoot Ella a triumphant look before Jem continued speaking in his calm and reasonable baritone. "But neither is Ella, Jessi."

Jessi spun on her heel at the smug look Ella tossed at her before she went back to pacing, mumbling incoherently under her breath. Ella rolled her eyes and threw up her own hands before sitting back down. She really didn't have the energy for Jessi's temper tantrum.

"Jessamyn, sit down and listen to me," Jem ordered her quietly.

"I'll listen, but I'm not sitting," Jessi retorted, not willing to completely ignore her uncle, but incapable of sitting down at this point.

"We shouldn’t have kept pieces from you when we started this journey, but the only person I needed to be sure understood the danger was Ella. She is the one who wants to perform the duties and she is the one that will ultimately have to live with the consequences," Jem said softly as Jessi continued to pace his floor, though with slightly less force than she had been.

"It's my choice, Jessi," Ella added passionately. Jessi spared her no more than a glance, choosing not to respond to the statement.

"However, you are right in this being why the Elders will not make a decision on this lightly and it is also why Nana's voice is resonating with them so forcefully."

"What are they afraid of?" Ella demanded in irritation at the whole thing.

"You," Jem and Jessi's voices answered her in unison. Ella didn't bother glancing at Jessi instead she continued to stare at her uncle in frustration.

Jem saw Jessi's mouth open to speak and shook his head at her imperceptibly. She obeyed, but it wasn’t without a glare.

"Look, I know we haven’t exactly sat down and had a heart to heart about what happened when Rico and Da died. You were poisoned with a toxin the like of which no one else has ever survived. We don’t know how far-reaching that poison is, but your very blood was tainted by something truly evil. You could be very dangerous in the hands of our enemies."

"Do you think I’m stupid enough that it hadn’t already occurred to me?” Ella ground out through her teeth.

"No, I’m very well aware of your ability to reason things out, but the simple fact is you’ll be setting yourself up as a target. A target greater than the Historians that came before you. With the combination of your talents and what you wish to do for this family, coupled with the dangers associated with your capture, it has many of the Elders dead set against this all together. It took everything I had to convince them to consider allowing a test hunt. We can either take what's been given, or you can wash your hands of it. That's your call."

"I won't walk away," Ella answered coldly, resolutely.

"I didn't expect that you would." Jem responded, a smile spreading across his face, "You two need to go to bed; you need to rest up and be ready when I've got the hunt worked out."

Ella stood, pausing to look at her cousin who was still pacing the office, her anger wilted.

"Jessi..." Ella's voice trailed off as Jessi met her eyes and she saw the fear and pain in her cousin's.

"I get it Ella. I do, really. I just need some time to digest it," Jessi answered, her voice showing her own exhaustion.

Ella nodded and headed out of the office for the apartment and her bed. It would be better to talk to Jessi tomorrow, after they’d both had some sleep and time to cool down. She found she just didn't have the energy for it right now.

Jessi started to follow Ella out, but paused at the door as Jem stood reaching for his jacket.

"It's not me hunting they object to, is it?" Jessi's voice was soft, almost tortured.

"It isn't," Jem responded, his blue eyes that were nearly the same shade as her own looking at her directly while he slipped his arms into his jacket. He saw the pain flash across her face before she masked it. It didn’t surprise him; in fact, he’d expected it.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Uncle Jem."

"Give it time, Jessi."

"What other choice do I have?" she asked with a sigh, not expecting an answer as she left his office and slipped down the hall to her own bed. The apartment was dark and silent as she moved quietly through it to her room. She didn’t bother turning on the lights as she threw off her clothes and slipped into bed.  Within minutes she fell into a restless sleep.

 

The sunlight streamed through the windows that faced east as Ella rolled over and rubbed sleepily at her eyes. Blearily she twisted her wrist to look at her watch, and after a few moments of blinking she was able to get her eyes to focus enough that she realized the small hand was on the nine and the big hand was just a few hash marks before it.

“Shit.”

Throwing back the covers, she dragged herself out of bed, though the lure of curling back up and sleeping through her first class was sorely tempting. 

“Damn it,” she groaned as she hauled herself over to where the jeans were that she’d abandoned the night before. Normally it would’ve bothered her to leave her clothes on the floor, but she’d been too upset and far too tired to care. Now it was a Godsend; she’d have to haul ass to be able to grab breakfast for herself and Jessi before class. It might’ve been only a few more feet to the closet, but it would save her precious seconds that would allow her to still get to _Le Petite Coin Paradis_ , and this morning she needed that incentive of Madame Dupond’s perfectly poured Café Au Lait to get moving. 

As she wiggled into the jeans, she tried not to think about how much of her night had been spent staring at the clock despite her exhaustion. There was nothing more frustrating than needing sleep and not being able to get any. Her mind wouldn’t quiet, and she’d spent most of the night torn between forcing the issue with Jessi and giving her some space. No matter how many times she’d told herself that it would be far smarter to give Jessi the time she asked for, she couldn’t help wanting to have it behind them.  They’d already lost too much time fighting.

So instead of getting the sleep she so desperately needed, she'd obsessed over the issue, tossing and turning until she’d finally fallen into a restless sleep.

Buttoning her jeans, she scooped up the vest and tank from the night before, hanging the former over her desk chair while she tossed the tank in the general direction of the hamper. She didn’t bother to see if she’d made the shot; instead she dug through the basket of laundry on the chest at the end of her bed. 

She didn’t have time to be picky about clothing. Any clothing would have to work. The first shirt that came to hand, she pulled on. As she tugged the hem down she realized it was the kelly green promo shirt from the previous St. Paddy’s Day. As a general rule she only wore it when she was cleaning since it had been liberally splashed with every alcoholic beverage under the sun. 

It appeared that she’d gotten most of the beer stains out with the last washing. She figured it covered what she needed covering to keep from being arrested for public indecency, and beyond that it didn’t matter. 

Pausing in front of the mirror, she stopped long enough to wipe at the eyeliner she’d forgotten to take off before bed. She was pale from lack of sleep and the smeared eyeliner that remained only accented her pallor along with the circles under her eyes, but it couldn’t be helped.

The alarm took that moment to go off, leaving her jumping and cursing as she glanced at it, wondering if it it’d been possessed. Thankfully it didn’t appear possessed; instead the power had gone out exactly nine hours before. She snagged a hair tie from her vanity and instead of brushing her hair she chose to wind the long mass up into a particularly messy bun. A brush and a shower would’ve been better, but there wasn’t time, so instead she headed out the bedroom door.

Not for the first time, she lectured herself on the merits of going to _Le Petite Coin Paradis_ for breakfast every morning, but the rush of pleasure when she took that first sip made everything seem right in her world.

It was comforting. Jessi’s maternal grandparents had owned a small French bakery in the French Quarter of New Orleans and had passed their knowledge onto Elise. She'd been spoiled by her aunt’s baking and it was a little piece of the home both Ella and Jessi had lost.    

Stopping by the door she grabbed a wad of tips that Jessi had left on the breakfast bar. It was far more than likely that it was her turn to pay anyway, especially since Ella generally paid for both of them.

Picking her keys up from the bowl and her knife, she grabbed her leather jacket and her scarf from the coat rack. Slipping the coat on and wrapping the scarf around her neck, she walked down the hallway and jogged down the back stairs into the currently empty kitchen of the Pub. There was a private entrance, but the girls rarely used it; besides it would be quicker to cut through the alley to get to the bakery than go around. She was already wishing she could materialize in the coffee shop as it was. 

Opening the back door, the cold air hit her and she wrapped her coat around herself, heading toward warmth and breakfast as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t more than two blocks down the street and half a block over from Jameson’s. The walk would do her good, but she felt like a parched woman dragging herself through the Sahara with no water.

That was if the Sahara was cold enough to make her nose turn pink and her breath catch in her lungs, she amended as she hunched her shoulders against the cold and started down the alley. She fiddled with the keys she’d put in her pocket as she trudged toward her first destination.

She couldn’t shake the argument she’d had with Jessi the night before; it had happened so unexpectedly. It wasn’t as if she’d been hiding it from her cousin exactly, Ella just hadn’t wanted to deal with Jessi’s worry. She was tired of being treated like a child, a feeble one at that. 

For years it had been Ella that had taken care of Jessi. It had been Ella’s job to keep her younger cousin safe, to keep her from jumping into something without thinking it through and to get her out of trouble when Jessi had inevitably gotten in over her head. Something had changed while Ella had been sick. Not only had she lost the drive to hunt, but Jessi had begun babying her. 

She probably should’ve outlined the danger of becoming a Historian, but it was a possibility only, not a surety. What was the point of letting Jessi drive herself crazy trying to protect Ella when she would spend her life in either Jem’s home or the farmhouse? Both places were heavily warded, particularly the libraries, and there were always Guardians in and out at all times. It was unlikely that she’d ever find herself alone at either of the houses. 

When she eventually wanted to make her own home and library, it too would be heavily warded. Besides, it wasn’t as if she intended on relying on the wards; she’d been planning to begin fully training again. She’d never end up in the field, but she didn’t want to depend solely on someone else to protect her.

Jessi often forgot that while she’d lost the edge of a Guardian, she was still fully capable of defending herself—as capable as any civilian that understood the danger. Granted, a civilian couldn’t handle the full ramifications of the war itself; the toll was great and they weren’t made for it. Still, she hadn’t become completely passive and helpless.

Ella sighed. It would probably be better to talk to Jessi after she got home from class. It would go better if her cousin was better rested and had the chance to cool off. In the end she knew she’d talk Jessi down. After all, Jessi wanted Ella fighting with her in any capacity. They needed each other. Once she’d had a chance to calm down, Jessi would come around; she always did. 

Ella took a deep breath and let it out **,** mentally noting that it would probably be a good idea to start fight training again. It would mollify Jessi, making her feel more secure in the fact that Ella could defend herself if necessary. It would probably be a good idea to start training with someone other than her cousin, though. She knew Jessi would be likely to go too easy on her, which wouldn’t do her any favors in a real fight. 

Setting that thought aside, she tried to pinpoint what was really bothering her about the argument; it wasn’t the fight itself. This wasn’t the first time Jessi had been overprotective, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time they’d argue about it.

No, what was really bothering her was that since Jessi had come back from Tulane she’d never once questioned Ella’s plan. It hadn’t occurred to her to question the danger to Ella of becoming a Historian. If she were honest, she’d breathed a sigh of relief when Jessi hadn’t pointed it out at the beginning, because if she’d thought about it this blow up would’ve happened a whole lot sooner. 

Ella pursed her lips. She was willing to bet big that someone or something had tipped Jessi off. Who, she couldn’t be sure, but someone the night before. Jessi’s temper was a quick storm and she wasn’t capable of holding onto it.

No, someone mentioned it during their shift last night and it wasn’t Jem. She’d asked him not to mention anything to Jessi. He hadn’t liked keeping it a secret, but he’d agreed.

Ella’s eyes narrowed. Jessi had come back from talking to Dean with fury practically crackling around her. At the time, Ella had assumed it was because Jessi was trying to protect her. Could it have been the Hunter? Was he the one who pointed out the problem with Ella’s plan? And if he had, why? It wasn’t as if they knew each other, or that he had any reason to care enough to say anything. At least she didn’t think he did…

Her mind trailed off on the last thought. For the last block she’d had the nagging feeling she was being watched. Her instincts weren’t screaming, but they were tugging at her, annoying her. It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. 

Using the storefront window as a mirror, she watched and was rewarded with a familiar profile of a man. She’d studied it the night before enough when she’d thought he wasn’t looking.

“Speak of the devil,” Ella muttered, watching as he stopped, lingering just out of her line of sight though she could feel him still there. Despite her irritation at the thought that he might have started the argument with her cousin, her heart lifted. 

Well, that was until she glanced down at what she was wearing and sighed. Of course she would look like a half dead corpse, buried by some seriously drunken friends.  There was nothing that could be done about it now anyway.  Besides if he wanted a beauty queen who never had a hair out of place, he was going to be seriously disappointed. 

The alleyway just ahead of her faced west, leaving it shadowed and dark despite the time of day. Turning, she slipped into the shadows and stepped into a doorway just out of sight.

Peering from her shadowed hiding place, she watched as Dean ambled around the corner, trying to appear as casual as possible. He moved down the alley clearly searching for her, knowing she couldn’t have gotten to the other end of it without him being able to see her. 

“Damn it,” he muttered as he passed her, turning to look at the fire escapes and back to the other side of the alley. 

As he turned to retrace his steps she slipped silently behind him, the knife open and in her hand. Moving quickly, she set the knife against his neck. Instantly he stilled.

“Why are you following me?” she asked with more curiosity than anger. She doubted he was going to hurt her; she found herself more amused than scared, but at the same time she didn’t like being followed.

“I saw you heading up the street and thought I’d catch up to you,” Dean replied calmly, reasonably. She had to give him credit; he acted as if it were every day he found a knife at his jugular, though considering what he was it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. She had to admire the way he remained so cool. “I thought I had a case, but I did some research and realized it was a bust.”

“Really? You just happened to see me and you followed me for two blocks without saying anything?” she snapped. “You stayed out of sight because you thought you’d catch up to me?”

“You know,” Dean said conversationally. “I’d recommend a gun over a knife if you’re worried about being followed.”

Before she could reply he’d twisted, catching her wrist and sidestepping the knife. She’d known enough Guardians and Hunters in her life to be impressed. He was a natural warrior; the fluidity of his movements was a born talent and he’d obviously honed that talent. With a lifetime's worth of practice, it was possible to come close to what came naturally to him, but it would be an uphill battle.

She tried to slip his grip, but he intuitively stopped her. Mentally Ella cursed her lack of training in the past few years; she was pitifully slow. Dean hit a pressure point in her wrist causing her to curse again as a sharp pain shot up her arm, but she kept a death hold on her weapon, refusing to let it go despite the pain.

Stubbornly she forced herself to focus past the pain. Taking advantage of the distraction the pain brought Dean pushed her back against the wall using his superior strength and weight to effectively pin her. Ella fought not to blush at the feel of his body that was flush against hers, making her acutely conscious of the contrast between the cold and unrelenting stone behind her and the warm firm muscle against the front of her. She couldn’t ignore the warmth that pooled low in her belly as he looked at her with a blank expression and burning eyes. 

No matter how much he attracted and fascinated her, she couldn’t lose sight of the fact he was a Hunter. He was nomadic by necessity; his job took him all over the country and the job she was going to be taking on would leave her settled in South Bend.

Had that not been a factor, she still wasn’t stupid. He was the kind of guy that kept things light. There would be little to no future with him. If she was lucky he’d come into town from time to time as he passed through her neck of the woods, and they might have an incredible weekend together, but he’d never be able to give her any more than that.

Damn, she wished it could be more, though. There was something so familiar about him, something that made her feel like she knew him. Combining the confusing emotion with the feel of his body against hers, it was almost spellbinding. 

Looking down, she tried to gain control of herself, taking a deep breath as she scolded herself for acting like a teenager struck with puppy love. If she were smart she’d walk away now; it would probably be better for them both. 

Dean studied her, his heart pounding as she looked demurely down. She was chewing on something, her face carefully neutral. He couldn’t help but notice the scooped neckline of her shirt offered a fantastic view, especially pressed up against his chest.

He wanted her, it was as simple as that. Part of him wanted to get her out of his system and part of him was afraid that he would find that she wasn’t any different than any of the other girls that had passed through his life. She’d been his first love, the first girl that had touched his heart even as she’d tied him up in knots of need. 

"Lesson over?" she asked, bringing his attention from her assets back to her face. She cocked her head irritably and pushed back against him, which she quickly found wasn't a good move.

She'd needed a little space, a chance to breathe and to get her brain to fully engage again. His body had been pressed tightly against hers and as she’d tried to push away it’d rocked her body against his in a way that only made things worse.

The breath she was frantically trying to control shortened even more, every nerve ending coming alive and instead of giving her more room, he instinctively pushed closer.

Depsite the fact he knowing that the last time he'd been so tangled up by her it’d nearly cost him his brother didn’t stop him from being drawn in. No matter how much he told himself it hadn’t been anything more than a stupid high school infatuation, he wanted her. It was as simple as that.

No matter what he told himself, regardless of the fact that he knew he should take a step back and give them both space, he couldn’t. When it came to Ella he’d always been incapable of listening to any kind of logic.

The uncertain look she’d given him only made it worse, making him feel as if he’d been the only one to touch her, the only one to kiss her until she’d lost reason. He cursed himself for being stupid while as he lowered his head, his lips touching hers, needing the taste of her more than he currently needed air. She was a complication and he didn't generally like complications; he couldn't afford them not then and even less now. Still, he couldn't help himself any more than he could at sixteen.

He’d been her first kiss; it hadn’t taken a rocket scientist to know it. Somehow she’d reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. She was everything he'd ever looked for and everything he avoided. He wasn't certain where the thought came from, but he pushed it away.

He meant to pull away, but her hand slipped up, splaying across his jaw and cheek pulling him closer, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

She didn't care if it was one night or months; she lost herself completely. She'd been in control the night before, and while he'd by no means been an unwilling participant, it'd taken him by surprise and he hadn't exactly been prepared with his A game. Her mind completely blanked as her body came alive in a way she'd never felt before.

It was something that had never happened before, period. She enjoyed a good kiss as much as the next girl, but rarely had the time for it. The best kiss she could remember hadn't been able to completely quiet her mind. There was always a piece detached and working through everything from her grocery list, to her schedule, to the chores that needed to be taken care of. It was the first time that she'd ever been drawn completely, utterly, and wholeheartedly into a kiss. When he nipped at her lip she couldn't stop the whisper of a whimper or the way she trembled as his hands slipped into her hair, angling her mouth so he could take more.

It was a mistake. It was a thought that slipped in and out of both of their minds, but stopped neither.

 


	8. Chapter 8

For the first time Ella could remember she fell into the moment, enjoying the passion and the heat as it raced through her. She enjoyed the sensation of feeling and not thinking while her body felt so completely alive. When he pulled back, his eyes were as heavy-lidded as hers, his breath coming out in the same rapid puffs of white.

"Apparently not," she whispered, a wry smile slipping across her lips. Instinctively she brushed her thumb across his lip where her tinted lip gloss had smeared leaving a pink shiny spot. The feeling of his kiss against her thumb had her fighting to take a much needed deep breath. She struggled to clear her mind and as it began to engage a devious idea had her lips curving.

When he dropped his head she let him take her under for another moment, thoroughly enjoying it, as one hand slipped to wrap around his neck, while the other still holding the knife brought it to rest against the hollow of his throat. Her upper body was caught between him and the wall, but there was some room for her legs to move, enough that she brought her knee up just shy of hitting him in a particularly vulnerable spot. Instantly she felt him go dead still, slowly raising his head to look at her.

“I told you I wasn’t completely helpless,” she said simply, her lips nearly brushing his as she spoke. He pulled back just enough to watch her through narrowed eyes as he tried to gauge if she was planning on following through with the threat. 

“Touché.”

She raised an eyebrow and waited until he took a step back with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender, but he didn’t move any further than that step. He was still crowding into her space, but she was pretty sure it was to keep her off balance and she sidestepped him, putting a little more space between them. 

Her mind engaged again, reminding her of the questions that had been circling around her mind only a few moments before. She couldn’t help wondering if the reason his job had fallen through had been because Jessi had asked him to keep an eye on her.

“Was this Jessi’s idea? Did she call last night and tell you I needed a bodyguard? Is that why you bailed on your job?” she asked as she casually put her knife away.

 “No, not really.”

Her eyes narrowed at his answer. As she continued to watch him, silently frowning, a familiar line appeared between her brows and her nose wrinkled slightly. It was the same look he remembered from when they’d been younger; she was working something out, fitting the pieces of a puzzle together. 

“What do you mean, 'not really'? It’s a yes or no kind of question, Dean,” she prodded, her eyes narrowing and her tone cooling in a way that warned him not to bullshit her. 

“Didn’t you say there was a good coffee shop around here?”

He glanced up and down the alleyway before looking at her with a bland expression, one that she answered with a glare.  

“Yeah I did, two store fronts west from where we’re standing,” she replied, as her arms crossed and she planted her feet, her head cocking. He just looked back at her, choosing not to answer her questions. After a moment he shrugged and gave her a look that asked her what she was waiting for. 

“Enjoy your breakfast.”

Her voice was emotionless and the lively light that had danced in her eyes when she’d looked at him earlier had disappeared entirely as she turned on her heel and began stalking away.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m not feeling like the coffee shop for breakfast this morning. I have to hit the library on campus; I’ll stop by the coffee cart on my way." Her voice had gone frigid as the wind that suddenly whipped around them chilled them both to the bone. “Just head that way. It’s called _Le Petite Coin Paradis,_ you can’t miss it.”

“Really?”

Dean looked at her with aggravated surprise and she responded with only a shrug, as if it didn’t matter. Her expression was bland and nonchalant while she bit down on her irritation. The coffee cart had meager offerings and she had been craving her usual breakfast, to the point she was practically desperate for it, but she’d be damned if she went with Dean.

More than anything she was tired of the secrets from everyone. Everywhere she turned she was met with someone hiding the truth. Whether it was her family or this man she barely knew, there was something here that she couldn’t quite place, something tugging on her and pushing at her, something she could just put the tips of her fingers on, but couldn’t quite grasp. 

It frustrated her to no end. In so many ways since her whole world had been turned upside down, she’d been cushioned from hunting. It was as if she was delicate and fragile, that everyone was waiting for the slightest thing to shatter her completely.  

Staring at the stone wall only feet from them for a moment, she fought to control her emotions. It wouldn’t help if she allowed Dean to twist her up. In fact, he knew something. From what he’d said and what she’d gathered, he knew her cousin. They knew each other far better than either had let on, well enough in fact Ella wondered what Jessi might have told him. She couldn’t be sure how much her cousin had confided, but it might be an angle worth pursuing; whatever it was that her family kept dancing around might just be something Dean knew. 

Studying him briefly before looking back at the stone wall, she wondered if she pushed him it might be possible to get him to talk. She was betting it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been pumped for information, but it wouldn’t hurt to see what she could get. 

“Do you know what my biggest problem is right now, Dean?” She asked, crossing her arms and cocking her hip. He watched her closely as his eyes hooded, hiding some of his emotion from her.

“What’s that?”

“That in less than ten minutes of talking with my cousin you managed to instigate a fight. She’s furious with me and it isn’t because she’s being over protective, not that that doesn’t happen. No, she’s irate because she got it into her head that I’m in danger. Now, I love my cousin, and I by no means consider her dense or stupid. In fact, she’s far more brilliant that she’d ever admit to, but she wouldn’t have gotten there on her own.”

“Jessi couldn’t have seen the flaws in your plan herself? I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit.”

“Oh she could’ve seen them, but you see, Dean, she didn’t want to,” Ella informed him, her own eyes narrowing as she spoke. “It’s why after all these months I haven’t had to say anything because she was so damned happy that I might have any capacity to be her partner that she didn’t question it. She wouldn’t have; it's why we haven’t talked about it. Now you show up here, you start sticking your nose in my business and you’re following me, so either you start talking or I’ll make sure you’re out of town within the hour."

“And how do you plan to manage that?”

“I warned you last night that my Uncle Jem could screw you over in ways you couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t an empty threat not now, not then.”

Dean tamped down on his own impatience and irritation with effort. As much as he wanted to respond in kind, he knew she had a point. As long as he could hold on to his own temper and think beyond it, he had a chance. He had to push beyond that emotion to the coldness, the logic, and do his best not to be backed into a corner by Ella. The best chance at that would be keeping her angry enough to keep her off balance while at the same time keeping her from doing the same to him.

“It’s not my fault that I noticed the flaw in your plan sweetheart, all I did was ask her about the job you mentioned last night. We talked about it the same as we’ve done plenty of other jobs before; I just pointed out the flaws. It’s not my fault she got angry. You should’ve told her in the first place.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I should’ve been the one to tell her, not you, and I would’ve in my own time, in my own way.”

“When? After you were dead because you didn’t want to tell her the truth?”

She could see the frustration in his eyes, and she could see the fear making her wonder what could possibly put those emotions in his eyes; he barely knew her.

“It’s not your place to decide anything for me, Dean, or for my cousin.”

Her words were said with a flatness that bothered him, her body so tense that she was practically vibrating.

“Don’t you get it? Jessi cares about you, she’s worried about you, and she has every right to be,” Dean retorted, trying desperately to keep one step ahead of her.

Ella bit down on the inside of her cheek. She could see the emotion rising in Dean’s eyes, and she was on the verge of pushing him into saying something he wouldn’t mean to.

 “You don’t know Jessi and you sure as fuck don’t know me, **so** stay the hell out of it,” Ella snapped dangerously. Dean reached out and grabbed her arm in a bid to keep her from storming away.

“I know enough to understand that when it comes to you, she has blind spots. She missed you, she wanted you back in her life, but we both know you need protection and she couldn’t do that if she didn’t realize what you weren’t telling her.”

 “Back off, I mean it,” she hissed, wrenching her arm from his grasp. “We didn't need your help.”

“Oh sweetheart, both of you need more help than you can even imagine.”

“I think you’ve done enough.”

“You’re in over your head; you couldn't stop me from pinning you. What are you going to do when something bigger, badder, and more evil than I am comes for you?”

“You act like you know me, like you have a right to give a shit about any of this, when the truth is I don’t even know your last name. You don’t know me, you don’t know my cousin, and you have no clue who my family is. My family’s been doing your job for thousands of years. How long has yours, pretty boy?”

“Wow, so you really are a Guardian?” Dean shot at her. “You didn’t act like it at first, but I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be long before I was the grunt Hunter that was so beneath you. I was just trying to help, Princess. Jessi’s a friend. What’s going to happen to her when you die, when she could’ve saved you but there was information she should’ve seen and didn’t because she’s so damn blind when it comes to you?”

He had to appreciate, even through his anger, the way Ella’s eyes flashed and the color that burned in her cheeks at her fury. He watched in fascination the switch flip; all that fury was drained away as her narrowed eyes glittered. 

“Exactly how many hunts have you been on with my cousin?”

Damn it. It was all he could think. She’d done it, she’d backed him into a corner and he had to answer. It was his turn to drop his eyes. She watched him steadily hiding the smile of victory as he rubbed the back of his neck before looking back at her.

“A few,” he admitted.

“How many?” she demanded “How well do really know Jessi, Dean? It would be better if you just told me the truth now. I’ll find it out later and I’ll do everything in my power to cut you out of both my life and Jessi’s. Don’t think I can’t do it.”

“A handful over the years.”

His voice was quiet, but she could hear the truth.

“How many years?”

“Off and on for a while.”

“What’s a while?”

“I don’t know,” he cried, at a loss of how exactly to tell her the truth when he couldn’t.  “Years. My dad worked with your family off and on for years, and we ran into each other on a hunt about five years ago. On occasion we’ve teamed up together when it was something one of us couldn’t handle on our own.”

“You mean when Jessi couldn’t handle it on her own,” Ella corrected. “Exactly how many hunts have you covered up for my family?”

“Enough,” he snapped.

“So you know she’s been banned, and you know that hunting could get her killed not only from the things she’s going after.”

He shook his head in admiration. She was good, damn but she was good. When they’d been kids he’d had a hard time keeping anything from her; she’d always been able to wheedle it out of him sooner or later.

Glancing down at her watch she realized the argument had taken up far more of her time than she meant it to. If she was lucky she’d only just be late for class at this point and damn it she was hungry. With a growl she made a split decision. She’d have to call into one of her classmates for their notes. She’d pushed Dean enough that he might talk. If she walked away now, she had a feeling he’d lock up tighter than a vault.

“Look, I have more questions, and I’m sure you have a few of your own. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee,” she offered, and without bothering to wait to see if he followed her, she led the way to the coffee shop.

When they reached the door, he stepped past her and opened it for her in a gesture of chivalry she hadn’t been expecting. She gave him a smile as she ducked her head before slipping past him into the warmth of the shop.

“You know, I still don’t know your last name,” she said conversationally.

“It’s Winchester,” he replied, flashing her a grin. She tried not to notice how laugh lines creased the corner of his eyes and accented his smile. It took a moment for his name to sink in and all of her other questions disappeared like a popped bubble.

The smell of richly roasted coffee and fresh baked goods faded to the background along with his smile when Dean saw the recognition in her eyes.

“You’re one of the two boys that trained with my grandparents.”

The statement was one he’d been hoping for, but at the same time he had been dreading. How would he explain it all to her? He’d left before she’d recovered—not by his choice, of course—but still he’d made a promise to her that he hadn't been able to keep.

“Dean, and your younger brother is Sam. I’ve been studying your family.”

Of all the things he’d expected she would say, that most definitely wasn’t what he’d imagined. His forehead furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” she said with the bright-eyed interest he recognized as that of a scholar. He’d seen the look often enough when Sammy had found a particularly interesting case, or though it completely baffled Dean, a school project that had particularly fascinated his younger brother. “I was looking at the beginning to contact those from the family histories I’ve been studying and here you are for me to ask the questions I need answered.”

“You’ve been studying my family history?” Dean asked, still clearly confused, but his voice cooling. The next question was said carefully and with some irritation. There were parts of his family’s past he didn’t like anyone researching. “Which part of my family history did you want to know about?”

“Not necessarily the most recent, granted though that in itself is interesting.” She paused as they approached the counter. Turning, she gave a big smile to the small white haired lady standing behind it; there was a bag and two to go cups already waiting.  “Add his to mine.”

“Interesting isn’t exactly what I would call it.”

Ella’s gaze flew to him as he avoided her look. She closed her eyes, remembering that a scholar’s interest didn’t always translate to those touched by tragedy. She’d been studying his line for proof he was a potential Lost Line. Proof she planned to take to the Guardian Council to petition for Hunters to be taught, to have access to their House’s protection, their archives, and their tools. In her excitement she’d let herself forget the trauma that had brought Dean’s family into the hunt.

“I’m sorry, that was insensitive,” Ella back-pedaled as she put her hand on Dean’s arm, keeping him from turning away completely. “I suppose as the child of Guardians, we’re raised with an early death as an inevitability. It isn’t unusual for our parents to die, especially not when we’re as young—if not younger than—you were. Jessi’s parents died when we were small, and my parents weren’t around much; they were too invested in the hunt to raise me. Our expectations of family life are not the same as most people’s and I forgot that you didn’t start as a Guardian with the knowledge of all its burdens.”

He simply shrugged at her before he ordered a coffee and cherry Danish. His face had gone expressionless, leaving her with the urge to kick herself. She’d picked the worst way to introduce him to her pet project which left her to think quickly to remedy her mistake. 

Ella passed over the cash she'd taken off the counter, trying to think of a way to smooth it back over so she could ask him some questions and maybe share her thoughts with him. If he was willing to cooperate, it could potentially slingshot her research and give her the ability to get to the bottom of her theories much faster.

 _“Merci Madame_ ,” she murmured, taking the drink tray with two cups and the white paper bag that held the pastries for both herself and Jessi, making sure to give the woman a generous tip.

“You’re welcome, sweet girl,” the older woman responded in French. Ella felt Dean’s eyes on her, flicking between herself and Madame. “Who is Mr. Big-and-Handsome?”

“ _Pardonne moi_ ,” Ella replied, biting down on the smile at Madam’s description. “Dean Winchester, this is Madame Dumond. She’s a dear family friend and the shop owner.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dean said politely, taking her hand and smiling charmingly.

 “It’s time you bring a young man around; you have good taste my dear.”

Ella was thankful that Madame continued to speak in French and responded in kind, hoping Dean couldn’t follow their conversation.

“No Madam, he is a friend of the family, an ally, a Hunter,” Ella told her with a dismissive shake of her head.

“Hm, I doubt that’s how it will stay if he has anything to say about it,” Madame Dumond mused as she poured coffee into the waxed paper to-go cup before opening the display counter for Dean’s Danish. “He has his eye on you.”

“You’re too romantic. We’re colleagues, and barely that.” Ella dismissed Madam’s response with a shrug, though her heart leapt a little at the thought.

“Only time will tell,” Madame replied with her own shrug. “But when I’m right I want details.”

“Sure, if you’re right I promise, but I’m not going to hold my breath,” Ella assured her.

“Just remember a little heartbreak can be good for the soul, and I have a feeling that this charmer could prove to be worth it.”

Madame leaned over the counter to pinch Ella’s already pink cheek before giving her a wink and returning to her post. Deftly she used the next customer as a way to get the last word, leaving Ella shaking her head in response. It wasn’t the first time Madame had served advice along with breakfast, and Ella was sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

If Madame hadn’t been a local institution as well as a close family friend and ally, Ella might’ve considered arguing more with her. As it was, she knew Madame’s heart was in the right place and Ella would only be arguing to convince herself, which would do nothing to convince Madame.  

“So, you speak French?” Dean asked, bringing her attention back to him, an amused look on his face.

“Among other languages,” she said dismissively, shrugging as she gestured for him to take the last cup and bag, she turned away nonchalantly.

“So what did you talk about?”

Glancing back, she found him grinning in a way that told her that while he didn’t understand the words, he was adept enough at reading body language and facial expressions that he had some idea.

“Mostly your ass. She thinks it’s cute,” Ella said guilelessly as she took a drink and left him to follow.

“And do you?”

“I think you know the status of your ass; you don’t need me to inflate your ego any more than it already is.”

Taking another sip, she let the silence that fell between the two of them stretch out as she tried to gather her thoughts. She’d played her hand too soon; her faux pas and Madame’s teasing had left her thoroughly scrambled. Carefully she lined her thoughts up in a clearer and more coherent manner.

She was certain her instincts were right. There was a reason his family had been pulled into the hunt. Could it be gifts, or the House itself that was being pulled back in? Either way she would need to work through his genealogy in order to know what gifts might run in his family. She would need to find which Line, if any, he came from.  

“Look, I want to say I’m really sorry about how I brought up your family and my interest in them,” she said carefully as they sat. Dean’s face closed off and he leaned away from her, his eyes narrowing warningly.

“Hear me out, please,” Ella pleaded as she saw him gathering himself to stand. Without thinking, she put a hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand and back up, his expression telling her she had only minutes to convince him to stay.

“I’ve been researching Hunters' family trees. There’s lore that Hunters are Guardians that at one point or another got out of the family business. Perhaps because they couldn’t handle it and didn’t have the drive to Hunt or the other interests that allowed them to help from the sidelines. Maybe because both the Guardians' parents died without another family member to take the child in, and they slipped through the fingers of one of the other Houses. We’ve lost so many Houses in the past century that the last is sadly entirely too possible.”

“And you think my family could be one of these families?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“I don’t understand why it even matters. Why do you Guardians need a reason for Hunters to hunt?”

The last was said with all the irritation of someone that had been in the middle of the Hunter-Guardian war long enough that he’d been burned by it. It was possible that it came from both sides, but more than likely there had been more problems with the Guardians than the Hunters.

“I don’t need a reason for you to hunt, Dean. I need evidence to take to the Guardian Council, a reason to stop the endless bickering between the two sides and finally allow the Hunters to reach their full potential, to give them access to all the things they've been denied.”

“I’ve reached my potential just fine without the help of a Guardian family. If anything, our association with the Guardians has only caused more problems than it ever helped.”

Studying her, he could practically see each argument racing through her mind as she discarded them and sifted for another one. He’d have to watch his step again. Being around her was a constant frustration to try and keep up and watch his tongue.

Ella had always been so much like her uncle, something that had Dean’s guts churning with fear. Rico had been a brilliant tactician, able to pick and choose the argument that would receive the least amount of resistance within mere seconds. Before you knew what happened you were agreeing with him that the most logical choice was of course his, but he’d been terribly wrong in the end. 

 _“I’m not going to agree, Ricardo, and that’s it,”_ he remembered Eleanor crying. _"You can’t meddle with this. If you think for one moment I like the danger that surrounds those girls, you are gravely mistaken, but it is their duty, their task, and you can’t save them from what will come. You can talk circles around me in order to get me to agree with you, but ultimately you know it won’t do any good. All you will do is complicate things more for them. You can’t take this on; for all your talents, my darling boy, it isn’t for you to do. Meddling will only backfire and make things more difficult in the long run.”_

 _“But Ma, you don’t understand; you don’t know the cost…”_ _Rico began._

_“No more about it Rico. I’m not talking about this with you anymore. Go pester your father if you have to argue with someone.”_

Rico’s eyes had flashed as she left him, his determined expression only hardening, and he hadn’t listened. Instead he’d set off a series of events that had led to death and destruction. In the end, Ella had paid a grave price for her Uncle's choices. 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 “I would agree with you, but to force the Council to see that they’re being close minded, I have to prove it,” Ella said, bringing Dean’s attention back to her. He watched as she opened the white paper bag and pulled out her morning croissant. “The two sides have been bickering for too long, and while there are certainly Hunters that are out there that have gone off the rails, there are far more that manage as well as any Guardian. There has to be a reason that some Hunters excel and others either flame out or are dangerous sociopaths.”

“And you’re basing this off the idea that I’m not a dangerous sociopath? You barely know me.”

“True, but I trust my gut on this one,” Ella told him, sounding optimistic while she inwardly prayed it was her gut and not her heart or libido that was leading her.

“How is this going to benefit the Hunters? What does it matter? The Guardians are too wrapped up in their bloodlines; all that really matters is that the job gets done.”

“Trust me, you have no idea how much I wish they thought the way you do, but you’re talking about centuries of doctrines I’m trying to change. I have to provide a significant proof that they’re being close minded and short sighted—not exactly an easy thing to do.”

“I don’t understand what blood has to do with any of it. Who cares?”

“Well apparently, my grandparents left out the basic history when they began training you. How odd.” Ella looked at him with a curiosity that made him uncomfortable. “By the way, when were you at the farm? I don’t remember you and I lived there from when I was eight to fourteen.”

Dean coughed as his vocal chords froze, the effects of Eleanor’s spell leaving him feeling as if he’d been grabbed by the throat. He took a drink of his coffee as he forced his mind away from his memories; even thinking the truth was enough to leave him feeling as if his windpipe had been blocked or might very well collapse altogether.

“Are you alright?”

 “Yeah, some of the Danish went down wrong,” he croaked, taking another drink and waving off her concern. She waited, and unfortunately, he could tell she wasn’t about to let the subject go. Carefully he weighed his options. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he wasn’t certain he had a choice. “It was only off and on for a few years.”

He didn’t say anything more and she didn’t press it. Instead she bypassed it with a shrug and returned to the original subject.

“The Guardians are the descendants of the Watchers. Are you familiar with them?”

Dean studied her, watching as she brightened; she reminded him of Sammy when he’d struck an answer on a particularly hard case. 

“Not really.”

“If you read the book of Enoch, which is one of the chapters of the Bible that didn’t make it into the King James version, you would understand. According to this chapter there were once what was called Watchers. They were angels who were sent to guard and watch over humanity. There was a Garrison devoted to helping protect humans from Lucifer’s wrath. However, there were some who fell for having…” she trailed off, as she flushed again. She’d blushed more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in years; it was getting ridiculous. Ella glanced away for a moment before continuing. “Let’s say relations with humanity.”

“So, the Watchers start shacking up with humans and they create the Guardians? Oh honey, I am one hundred percent sure I’m no angel, but you on the other hand…”

Taking another drink to hide her expression, she wasn’t certain whether she should be flattered or not. She reminded herself she couldn’t afford to be. Still, she couldn’t help the wry smile that ghosted across her lips before she gave him the direct, piercing look that could leave you feeling as if she’d peered into your soul.

“Are you going to ask me next if it hurt when I fell?”

 “I tend to be a little smoother than that,” he chuckled as he leaned back, his smile warming her.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she laughed, ducking her head before shaking it as she realized it was going to be a fight to keep him at arm’s length.

 “Let me get this straight, the whole basis of the Guardian’s blood obsession is that they are descendants of angels that got a little too frisky with the natives. You guys have no delusions of grandeur or anything.”

She glanced back up at his statement, thankful for the distraction of his disdain and the opportunity to explain some of what was more than likely his history too.

 There was so much he should’ve been taught, so much that could make his life easier, even if it was just to answer the question of why. Every Guardian and Hunter wondered why—it was only natural—but it helped to understand the true reason, the bargain that had been struck thousands of years before. They were all that stood between the darkness and humanity, they were made to fight, and they’d been born physically, mentally, and emotionally stronger than the average human. 

 At the same time, it was difficult for Hunters to wrap their brains around the truth of the history. For all the lore they researched and every creature they found that was real, they shunned the idea that they themselves were anything other than normal. It created too many shades of grey. After all, if Hunters and Guardians weren’t wholly human, what made them different from the creatures they hunted? 

 He was the first Hunter she’d had the opportunity to talk to. Her hopes were to eventually bring the Hunters into training as adults with the proper respect for what they could do, but to teach them what they didn't know yet. She respected what could be done with so little formal training and an incredible amount of ingenuity. There were many that managed to get through by quick thinking and by the skin of their teeth, but that didn’t mean there weren’t things that could make hunting not only easier, it would make it safer. 

 “Whether or not you believe it, it’s true Dean. If you bothered to research it, you would find plenty of lore on it. At least you'd find lore on the Watchers being cast from heaven for improper relations with their charges," she amended. "There is little on it within the Bible itself, but according to our records the time spent among humanity changed the angels. It changed them so drastically that only a handful are allowed to walk among us now and none of them are to remain on earth for long periods of time for fear they’ll become equally attached to their charges. Look up the Nephilim.”

 “Nephilim?”

“The children of the ‘sons of God’ and the ‘daughters of men’ according to the book of Enoch, though there were some ‘daughters of God’ and ‘sons of men’ thrown in there. The product of these unions were the Guardians.”

“And why does it require so much digging to find this information, or any information when it comes to hunting for that matter?” He demanded. 

She smiled at his question. He was quick, all right. She wondered how long he’d been chewing on that question, one that obviously pissed him off and had for a while.

“When the world began turning away from magic and the unexplained, instead turning their beliefs to science, the Guardians began changing the history to what it is now. That’s why it takes so long for Hunters to sort through the lore; we’ve intentionally left multiple paths and allowed humanity to create stories or additions to the truth that aren’t correct.”

“Why?”

Dean leaned forward as he asked the question, his elbows on the table and his hands steepling as he studied her over them.

“Why hide it from humanity? Why allow them to continue to be blinded to the truth?" Ella responded, her voice lively, her eyes filled with light for the topic they discussed. "Because of one very important piece of history. I assume you have heard of the Inquisition?”

“Sure, multiple witch hunts in Europe, and later in America. I did a gig in Salem a few years ago, some stupid kids disturbed the grave of one of the Salem victims; it killed its way through two families out of revenge before I stopped it.”

“It’s not exactly our shining moment. The Guardians started out with the very noble idea of tracking and targeting all dark witches. These Guardians, my family included, were _purely_ hunting for dark witches, both the demon born and hereditary alike.”

“Demon born?”

“Those that get their powers from a pact with a demon,” Ella clarified. “Hereditary witches come from the Fae intermingling with humanity. The former are far more dangerous than the latter. If the witch chooses the dark side of magic, they feed off of death and decay. They practice blood magic which requires a tortuous end to their victims to gain more power.”

“Do they make any other kind of witch? The only other kind I’ve come across are the hippy dippy crazies selling crystals.”

“Magic is a tool, Dean, neither black nor white. It is the practitioner who chooses the path. It’s no different than the gun you’re carrying. Our family has a long history of working with hereditary witches in our hunting. They can be very useful and equally as powerful as their dark counterparts, but we’re getting off the subject at hand.”

Ella fiddled with her croissant, ripping another piece off as she selected her next words carefully.

The darkest part of the Guardians' history had been responsible for the deaths of countless innocents because of the mobs of terrified people. It was a mistake her people still keenly felt, especially when considering the standards they were required to hold themselves to. In so many ways they had to work outside the law and prior to that debacle, they had _been_ the law. If they weren’t careful it could lead down a very dark road, as the Inquisition had clearly shown them. The House of Castile had proven exactly where pride combined with power could lead. It was a lesson that couldn’t ever be forgotten.

“Unfortunately, the witch hunts got away from the Guardians,” Ella sighed, taking a drink and fidgeting as she fought to continue to speak carefully. It was certainly not a proud moment for her people, but she refused to shy away from the subject as so many did. She understood that mistakes were made. At the core, despite what some Guardians might believe, they were as fallible as humanity at large.

“My people weren’t prepared for the witches fighting back; we expected that they would attack us directly. As I’m sure you are aware, the other side doesn’t play fair. It was a stupid and unbelievably costly mistake. In retaliation, the witches attacked the innocents, decimating thousands, causing pain and suffering to the best of their immense abilities. It had the effect they wanted. The humans panicked and they began fighting as well, unfortunately attacking anything that wasn’t strictly human, the Guardians included.”

“By attacking the humans, the witches had to know that they were putting themselves at a greater risk.”

“Of course, they did, but the Guardians had humans telling them if they thought there might be a witch in their village or town. The Guardians would then seek out the supposed witch and handle it if it was the real deal. By attacking the humans, the way they did had the humans scrambling to defend themselves, but humans have neither the temperament or the training to hunt. It was a calculated risk, one that ended up showing that the Guardians themselves were more than human.”

“So, they attacked, expecting to go down either way and if that was going to happen, they’d take the Guardians with them.”

“Exactly. The humans didn’t have any real idea what they were looking for. Since they didn’t have the training, they began making things up. The signs of a witch became downright laughable—that is, if it hadn't been at the expense of so many innocents. The dark witches used the chaos to go underground and effectively force anyone with any abilities underground with them.”

Ella didn’t break eye contact or so much as blink as she spoke. She paused at the end, however, and looked down. Dean could feel the regret and remorse she felt for something that had happened so long before their birth.

“It’s not like it was your fault, Ella.”

“You’re right, it wasn’t my fault.”

 Looking back up and meeting his eyes, he found a compelling intensity in hers.

 “But it is something that could happen again. No Guardian can ever for a moment forget that.  What we did got away from us, got out of control, and the fanatics capitalized on it. They didn't just search for witches; instead they looked for heretics. Thousands were tortured before they were either burned or hanged. Thousands that were guilty of nothing more than having a difference in beliefs. It was utilized as an excuse to get back at an enemy or to gain wealth. The good we were trying to do—that we have always tried to uphold—became evil. It’s so easy to try to do the right thing for what we believe is the right reasons only to find it twisted into a darkness and barreling down a track we can’t control anymore. Anyone can create evil in the name of good, anyone can try to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Our desitions, must be carefully weighed and thoroughly researched before springing into motion.”

“You’d die in the field if you tried to take that approach.  Things happen too fast, sometimes all you can do is to try to stay on top of it until the threat is contained and mop up the mess after,” Dean replied. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, foresight is blind. It’s easy to look back at that mistake and think it could’ve all been fixed if we changed one small piece only to find ourselves in a larger mess if we had.”

“Maybe,” Ella conceded. “Either way the Guardian Council decided it would be in the best interest of innocents and Guardians alike to cloak what we did, to allow humanity to forget the truth and to let them create myths, stories, and legends based off what was really out there.”

“Okay, so let’s say way back in the day my great, great, however many greats it was…”

“It’s a lot; there are plenty who believe the Bible and think that the children of the Watchers were wiped out in the flood. It doesn’t exactly say that, though.”

“The flood, as in Noah and the animals?”

“As in Noah, the ark, and a pair of every kind of animal.”

“How are you going to be able to prove it? We’re talking thousands of years.”

“I could prove it right now if you wanted,” Ella told him, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow as if asking him if he were game. It was a dangerous move with someone like Dean.

“How in the hell do you do that?”

“Give me a few days and I could trace your family history to the last Guardian in your Line. I’m willing to bet just about anything, that eventually I’d hit on a family name that I could tie back to one of the original Houses.” At his confused look, she paused to explain. “There are four original houses that stem from either Noah or Aneas of Troy, depending on who is telling the history. Unlike the rest of humanity, the Guardians' histories are not necessarily vague so much as so vast that we no longer know for certain.”

“How vast?”

“Let’s just say the Library at Alexandria had copies of our records," she said with a shrug, waving it away with her hand and a light shake of her head. "Anyway, it’s been too many years since there’s been someone who could actually take the time to research the information necessary to know the truth. More than likely it’s a combination of both Noah and Aneas.”

“You’re taking it on faith that a flood actually happened, or Troy actually burned.”

“Look it up," she said simply. “Not faith, Dean, truth. If you were researching a case and you came across at least ninety accounts of something humanity believed was a myth, would you believe it was true or would you follow the other ostriches? There are ninety religions and cultures that have a flood myth, one that mirrors the story of Noah. As for Troy, there is archaeological evidence that it did at one point exist in Hissarlik, Turkey.”

She let the silence once again fall between them. He studied her, trying to figure out exactly how much of what she’d told him she believed. Returning his look without so much as a flinch, he knew she believed every word. What he had to decide is if she was delusional, misled, or if she was telling him the truth. It was a bit of a terrifying prospect.

“We can sit here and discuss this for hours if you’d like. After all, it’s the job I’m training for,” Ella told him with the same sweet smile she’d given him last night, and damn it, it still made his heart skip a beat. “How about instead I offer you a trade.”

“What trade?”

“Part of my plans are to research the Hunters' family lines. If I can start with yours, there're plenty of incentives that could come out of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think the Guardians are able to work as easily as they do because they're lucky? You have no idea the toys or the wealth that the Houses have, and by wealth, I mean both knowledge and money.

 Some of the Lost Houses have security boxes, vaults, and bank accounts that are lying untouched because there's no one left to claim them.”

“What's kept other Houses from claiming it?”

“It takes a blood tie to access these things, a complete blood tie. This tie is generated hereditarily from which bloodline you have the greatest or strongest connection to. The Lost Houses are entire bloodlines that have been wiped from the earth. Your blood chooses your House and without that claim, the heirlooms of the House can’t be touched. Old World magic was used to ensure it. The original Elders made certain each House was carefully guarded to keep all other Houses from being able to steal from another house, or Heaven forbid, the rare but real possibility of fighting among the Guardian Houses for certain tools or wealth.”

“Are you saying that there might be a Gringott’s vault out there with my name on it?”

“Did you really just make a Harry Potter reference?”

She choked on her coffee before laughing. To his surprise her laugh came out rich and throaty, with a bawdy promise to it he wouldn’t have guessed she was capable of.

“Maybe,” he replied with a touch of defensiveness.

“Okay,” she chuckled, shaking her head before responding to his original question. “I’m saying it’s a good possibility.”

“And if there isn't?”

“Then I can offer you the protection of my House, which is old and exceedingly respected, along with my expertise at your disposal.”

“What exactly does your expertise entail? What makes you think I need you?”

“You really don’t think Jessi saved your ass from the _Rusalka_ all on her own, do you?” she asked, leaning forward.

“Alright, so what exactly would we be trading?”

“Training,” Ella said coolly.

“Training?” Dean asked, drawing the word out as if looking for a hidden meaning in it. “What kind of training? If you have all the answers, what could I possibly teach you?”

“Fighting,” she said simply. At his raised eyebrows, she explained. “It’s been years since I fought and as you so kindly pointed out to my cousin, I’m a sitting duck. I may not have the need to fight, the drive to go mano-a-mano with the creatures you and Jessi fight, but that doesn't mean I should be defenseless. I don't want to solely rely on someone else to protect me if something comes after me. I’d like to at the very least be able to hold my own until the cavalry arrives.”

He studied her a moment. It was more than likely, absolutely, the worst idea. It obviously wouldn’t be the first time they’d trained together, though last time she’d had far more experience with fighting than he had. Part of him couldn’t help but be intrigued by the idea of the tables being turned and that this time he would get to be the one handing her, her ass. 

His eyes traveled up and down her, appraising her for more than her attractiveness. This time he appraised her strength, fitness level, and remembered the grace she’d moved with. The fight in the ally had been a travesty. If he’d wanted to kill her, it would’ve been simple.

However, she could still think quickly and turn opportunity to her advantage. There was some training left, enough to begin to assert itself once she began working at it again.  

Still, he was already having a hard-enough time keeping his hands off her. The intimacy of training her was only going to put them in far more compromising positions than they’d already been in. He wasn’t certain he’d be able to keep things strictly professional and he couldn’t afford strings. 

Jessi could and would certainly work with her cousin; she could train Ella just as well as he could and it would allow him to keep his distance. He could guide from the sidelines at least until he was sure that Ella had the skills to protect herself. Once they hit that point, he’d be free. He could head out on the road and lose himself in hunting for a few months. 

“Why aren’t you asking your cousin?”

“Are you afraid to fight with a girl?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and she returned his gaze unflinchingly. It was disconcerting that she still knew exactly what button to push. If he were honest, the answer would of course be no, but there was so much more to it. 

Glancing out the window, he rubbed his chin as he bit his lip against the first six retorts that came to mind. More than anything he wanted to fight with her, to train her, to feel her body against his—it bothered him how much he wanted it. As a rule, he wouldn’t be over thinking it like this; he would’ve even enjoyed it and worked it to his advantage, but things were too complicated with Ella. 

“No, I’ve worked with Jessi. I just can’t help but wonder why you wouldn’t ask the home team to work with you before going to an outsider,” he offered, his gaze returning to hers, emerald clashing with jade and amber. “Since I’ve worked with Jessi I know exactly how good she is; I know she’s more than capable of teaching you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ella replied, leaning on the table toward him. “Jessi can’t train me because she’s too afraid of hurting me. I was attacked at fourteen by a hell hound, it’s poison almost killed me, and it took down my uncle and grandfather. Between the trauma of their deaths and my illness I’ve lost pieces of my memories. Ever since then, my family has treated me like I’m fragile and weak, like the slightest confrontation will either kill me or leave me stark raving mad. Jessi is so afraid of losing me she can’t hurt me.”

“And you want me to hurt you?” Dean asked with dry, self-deprecating amusement. “There are so many openings there, where to even start.”

“Can you be a little serious here? I need someone that won’t hold back, someone who can teach me because they want me to be able to defend myself, truly, and they know that holding back could get me killed. We both know the other side isn’t going to hold back on me. I have to know how to take a hit and how to give one.”

He sat back, studying her, and he couldn’t say she was wrong. The whole reason he was having a difficult time walking away was because he couldn’t be sure the Jameson’s could protect her. He knew Jessi would get herself killed if it meant keeping Ella safe, but he couldn’t be sure about the rest of the family. He couldn’t be sure that they wouldn’t get Ella killed trying to keep her in the dark and "protected".

The Jameson’s were full of good intentions, but everyone knew where that road led, and unfortunately the family couldn’t seem to learn their lesson. The kicker, of course, was the pleading look in Ella’s eyes. Even when he’d been dead set on treating her like a snot nosed brat, he hadn’t been able to resist that look.

 “Sure Angel, we can go a few rounds.”

“Why does that make me feel dirty?” Ella asked, wrinkling her nose at his response and teasing a real smile and chuckle from him. “And don’t call me Angel.”

“Sure Angel, whatever you say.”

Shooting him a glare as she stood, she chose not to argue. Ella preferred to win an argument and there was no way to win this one. Instead she picked up the bag that still sat on the table between them, and Jessi’s now cold mocha before she tossed away her empty cup and waved at Madame Dupond as they left.

Silence fell between them as they waked for more than a block, Dean slowing as they reached a black Chevy Impala.  For a moment that same pain she was becoming all to used to stabbed between her eyes and she could hear the motor would make, despite the fact Dean had moved to the passenger door, keys still in his hand.

Shaking her head to clear it she eyed the car.  If she had to guess she’d say it was a late sixties model, but she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. It’d been years since she’d paid attention to a car that closely.

“Is this your car?” she asked, as a feeling of familiarity that was tugged at her, making her wonder if she’d seen this same car before, or just one very similar.

Coincidences were often what civilians told themselves happened to explain away what they didn’t want to see, she reminded herself.  Deja vu and coincidences very rarely actually ended up being the explanation in her world.

“Yeah, we may as well take it back to the bar. I don’t want to leave her here.”

“I don’t blame you; she’s a beauty. Not exactly an inconspicuous ride, but a beauty.”

“She’s family.”

Many might’ve been confused by his simple statement. To them it would’ve been nothing more than a car and they wouldn’t have been able to understand the sentiment. Her grandfather had loved cars, and they’d spent their road trips going to various training hunts, playing "guess the make, model, and year of the cars on the road". Grandda had owned a ’68 Cougar that Nana had complained he loved more than he loved her. 

“The best ones always are,” she responded, teasing another smile out of him as she slipped past him and sat in the passenger seat. It had the smell of an old car: a combination of grease and gasoline, along with the other fluids riding just under their scent. The smell of leather and leather conditioner as well as the pristine condition of the interior told her how hard he worked to maintain the classic car. 

Dean shut her door and walked around the car before sliding into the driver’s seat. As he shut his door he leaned closer the scent of his soap mingling with the other scents of his car in a surprisingly attractive combination. turning the key in the ignition. 

She tried to ignore it and her response to it as the car roared to life.  Trying to keep from meeting Dean’s eye she looked around the car for a distraction. There was an old army duffle laying across the back seat along with a cooler, and her vision blurred for a moment. The sound of the engine, the duffle in the back, and the eyes of the man next to her as they glanced at her all combined causing a stabbing pain to her temple.

“You were there,” Ella cried suddenly, the memory of the boy, the one that she hadn’t remembered, but who had looked at her as if she should’ve overwhelming her. “You were at the farm the day I woke up from the hell hound attack.”

Dean’s heart stopped in his chest and he had to force himself to take a deep breath to steady himself before he looked back at her. 

“Yeah,” he admitted finally.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Why were you there?” Ella demanded. “And why did you act like I should’ve known you? Why were you so upset that I didn’t?”

He fought to think as rapidly as possible; the parameters of the spell kept them from telling Ella anything she didn’t already know. He couldn’t answer her questions, but the fact that she was asking them made him think that perhaps Jessi’s desperate plan might, in fact, be working. 

“Ah,” he said, clearing his throat before picking his words carefully. He would have to lead her to answering her questions herself. “My father was called in after the attack.”

“Did I know you?” Ella demanded. “Before the attack, had I met you and I just don’t remember it?”

Dean couldn’t respond, but when he looked at her, she could see the answer in his eyes. Her vision blurred again and her head pounded. Flashes of the boy Dean had been flickered through her mind too quickly for her to grasp them.

He pulled the car quickly into the first parking spot at Jameson’s and cut the engine. Leaning over, he put a hand on her shoulder, and her body trembled under it.

“Are you alright?”

When she looked up, there were tears welling from her eyes and slipping down her deathly pale face; even her lips were without color. There was pain in her eyes as she rubbed at her forehead. 

“Yeah, I get headaches when I try to remember the past,” she replied, shaking her head and rubbing at her temple. “I’ll get some medicine when we get upstairs.”

“Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better.”

“No,” she snapped, desperation in her voice.

Her hands were balled into fists in her lap and he could see her fighting to restrain herself from hitting the first thing she saw. He was thankful for it, especially since she was looking at his dash. He was at a loss for words; there was so much he wished he could tell her, but he couldn’t.

“I was at the farm when you were there, wasn’t I? That’s why you were upset I didn’t know you. I forgot you and I’m betting your brother too, since he’s only four years younger, because of the poison.”

“Yes,” he admitted as she continued to stare out the windshield. After a moment, she wiped irritably at the tears that she couldn’t stop. The stabbing pain in her head was powerful. Closing her eyes against the early morning glare, she pushed away her curiosity.

“No one has ever lost their memory to a hell hound attack,” she said woodenly, refusing to look at him. She wasn’t even certain why she was telling him about the research she hadn’t told anyone about. “I’m certainly not the first person to be scratched by one, but I’m the first to have this reaction.”  
“Hey, you said it yourself. It wasn’t just the poison. Your uncle and grandfather died protecting you, and that's a trauma that’s difficult to get past. I’ve met plenty of people who have repressed memories for far less of a good reason.”

“I suppose,” she sighed, shaking her head and getting out of the car. “Except most Guardians don’t repress trauma; it’s not how we’re made. We can’t continue to fight this war if we forget every traumatic recollection. We’d end up with no memory, since our lives end up being one great big traumatic memory. I guess it’s just proof that I’m not made to be in the field.”

Following Ella as she led him to the back alley and the service door that led into the kitchen, he fought with his own anger. Thanks to Eleanor Jameson, she truly blamed herself, as if there was something wrong with her, something broken in here and that’s why she couldn’t remember. How in the hell did he tell her it wasn’t something broken in her? Yes, she’d been tainted by what had attacked her, but it wouldn’t surprise him if she could use it against what had tried to kill her. 

More than anyone he understood what had prompted Jessi into pushing so desperately for Ella to get her memories back. It wasn’t that the will to fight had been stripped if that had been the case then she would’ve shunned all hunting completely. She certainly wouldn’t be contesting the ban like she was, and she wouldn’t be seeking someone to train her to fight. No, all Eleanor had accomplished was repressing Ella’s will.  
It was part of what he’d argued with Eleanor after Ella had woken up without her memories. If anyone had the will power to use the evil in them against what had poisoned them it was Ella. He couldn’t help the admiration of how she’d continued to fight even if she didn’t understand it, or realize that she even was fighting. 

Ella opened the door leading into the pub’s kitchen and headed through the dimness of the usually bright room. Before long the staff would start to arrive, the silent room would fill with light and noise, enough you would barely be able to hear yourself think.

“Should we be concerned about any noise from training that might worry the staff or any family members?”

Ella glanced back at him and couldn’t help the smile that slipped across her face at his worried expression; Looking quickly at her watch, she shook her head.

“No, Jessi’s at the gym right now, though she trains at home too, so it’s unlikely the staff will think anything of it. There are plenty of times that Jem and Jessi have gone head to head, which meant the thumps and scuffling won’t be anything new. There was some guy at the gym that Jessi’s been toying with so I’d expect her to be gone at least another hour. Jem wasn’t supposed to work last night He ended up stuck here because of family business, which means he’ll be in late this afternoon to make it up to his wife.”

Dean only nodded as he followed her through the kitchen to the back stairs and watched as she jogged up the stairs. It was hard not to; all things considered it was a fantastic view, but more importantly by the time she reached the top she was neither winded nor tired. It showed him she stayed in shape despite her lack of combat training. 

He followed her down the hallway until they reached the end where she took her keys from her pocket and unlocked the door. She gestured for him to walk ahead of her, and he complied as he shoved his hands into his pockets, she followed close behind. He heard the door shut as he took a good look at the apartment both Ella and Jessi called home.

It was keyhole shaped, with a living room to his right with a large old fashioned leaded window and a French door that opened onto a scrolled iron balcony. To his left was a training area complete with weights, a punching bag, padded helmets, gloves, and a roll of tape. 

As the room curved, he saw the doorway to a bathroom, a hallway that led to a couple more rooms, and finally a doorway in the secondary curve into the kitchen. The floors were old warm-colored wood, darkened with an aging that told him it was the original flooring; the kitchen and bathroom were black and white tiled.

There was a riot of different shades of blue, purple, and green, from the deep forest of the velvet on the couch to the same velvet in a rich sapphire on the wing backed chair that sat next to it, to the eggplant of the soft throw blanket tossed over the chair’s back.  
Softer shades of the same tones were picked up in the throw pillows and pictures hanging on the walls. Everything ringed the wood burning fireplace and looked comfortable, inviting even. 

He was unused to the urge to curl up on a couch and watch the fire crackle, but for a moment he entertained the idea As a general rule, he was lucky if there was a clean and semi comfortable bed for him to catch a few hours of sleep on before he was needed elsewhere; anything else was just gravy. He only had vague memories of a home. He’d been so young when his mother had died, and it’d only left impressions at this point rather than actual memories. 

There was a table situated in the middle of the curve of furniture, a sturdy antique with elegant lines. Despite the obvious age, it gleamed with the shine of something that had obviously been well taken care of and appreciated. Small tables—he couldn’t remember what they were called—sat at each end of the couch and the opposite side of the chair. They mimicked the wood and the lines of the larger table.

On either side of the fireplace were ceiling to floor bookshelves. Books and knickknacks haphazardly covered each shelf as if they still were used, keeping it from looking too much like a library and instead creating a lived-in atmosphere. 

“Can I have your coat, or do you prefer to fight in it?” Ella asked as he wandered to the bookshelves, curiously picking up a small iridescent crystal ball from its place next to a book written in a language he didn’t recognize.

Ella smiled; she’d been amused to see the book written in Gaelic by a Guardian long since detailing the various genera of the Fae beside a crystal ball. Natural ability to scry, whether it be by crystal, water, fire or pendulum came from the Fae blooded. She knew Dean had no idea as he set the crystal back in its stand and looked back to her.

“No, it’s easier to fight without it, though it’s not always a choice,” he said as he shrugged off his coat and handed it to her. She placed it beside her own on a fanciful coat rack created out of a many headed dragon, each head a hook. “It’s best to be prepared to fight in anything. You never know when something that you’re hunting might realize it and take it into its head to hunt you back. As a rule, it happens before you even realize what you’re hunting.” 

“So Murphy’s Law applies to Guardians and Hunters as well as the general population.”

“Murphy’s Law enjoys kicking me in the teeth with regularity,” Dean told her. “If it can go wrong, it usually does, and it’s best to expect it to.”  
“Good to know,” Ella replied, rubbing her suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans and waiting for him to tell her what to do. “Not that I’ll end up in the field, but it certainly gives me perspective on those I’m trying to help.”

Dean took his gun from his hip, dropping the magazine and ejecting the loaded round before replacing the bullet and setting it on the bookshelf.

“Well, I guess we should get started,” Dean said, turning back around to face her. He stepped into the training area, gesturing for her to follow.  
“Yeah, I guess we should.”

“The first things first, can you throw a punch, and preferably not throw one like a girl.”

“Like this?” She asked sweetly as she moved into range and threw a surprisingly swift punch with a good amount of momentum behind it. He grabbed it out of the air and looked at her fisted hand; she remembered more than they wanted her to. While her hand was much smaller than his own, it was fisted correctly, her thumb tucked properly to keep from breaking it.

“Take your rings off, Angel. While they can be an advantage in the fight, I don’t want to be cut up by them and you haven’t toughened your hands up enough not to hurt them if you land a punch.”

“If I land a punch? I may not have trained in a while, but I’m not completely incompetent,” she growled as she reluctantly pulled her rings from her fingers and slid them into her pocket. “And could you please stop calling me Angel?” 

She wasn’t certain which bothered her more: how easily he’d plucked her fist from the air, or the annoying nickname he seemed intent on calling her.

“Why does it bother you?” There was teasing light in his eyes, one that made it into a flirtation rather than simple teasing.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here to teach me to fight, not to irritate the snot out of me.”

“Ah, but you see, irritating you—while interesting—also has the benefit of pulling you off your guard. Some people use anger to focus them, but if you’re like your cousin, then it’s possible anger can distract you.”

“You’re full of shit; Jessi gets more focused the angrier she gets, at least in a fight. Now, arguing with me, she gets led in circles until she can’t remember which way is up and which is down,” Ella replied as she pivoted, her body moving without thinking as he began to circle her. Instinctively she moved to continue facing him no matter which way he shifted.

It was interesting that she remembered how Jessi fought. She didn’t realize it, but it was one more memory slipping out of the Pandora’s Box Eleanor had created. Only remembering fighting with Jessi directly would’ve given her that information. The dulling of her senses wouldn’t have left her imagining fighting against Jessi, or how to defend against her, or even how Jessi reacted in the heat of the moment. It had to be something Ella remembered.

There were far more instincts left than even Jessi knew, Dean realized, as she threw another punch. This time he blocked her with his forearm and sent a test punch toward her face. She deflected slower than she should’ve, but with apparent skill. In a fight with a civilian she’d rock it, but against creatures unnaturally strong and fast, the only way she’d walk away was by pure luck.

They continued to circle each other, Dean testing her with feints. Her footwork was still good; she moved quickly, sidestepping, but if they went full speed, it was likely she’d be in trouble. However, the general movement was as it should be. When he pivoted into a kick, she dodged—just barely—but her muscle memory was still there.

“Not bad, but you’re rusty and you need to be faster. When did you stop training?”

“Three years ago,” Ella replied, watching him closely and dodging what she thought was another punch. Instead, as she was off balance, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her against him. Instinctively, she twisted her wrist and jerked down, pulling it free, if only for a moment. He moved like quicksilver, trapping both of her wrists with his hands. She threw her weight back and kicked, connecting with his chest and using the movement to free her wrists again, but the move unbalanced them both.

He pulled her forward, cushioning her fall, so that she landed on top of him, but the game wasn’t over. Moving as quickly as possible she tried to roll free, but he was on top of her before she had the chance. They lay there for a moment, his body pinning hers, and once again his body pressed intimately against her.

“You know, I didn’t ask you to train me as a ploy to get closer to you,” she said softly, trying not to notice the gold rings that circled the green in his eyes and the thickness of his lashes fanning across his cheeks as his eyes fell to her lips. “Let me up.”

To her surprise, he relented, rolling off and standing in one graceful move before holding out a hand to help her up. 

“Was it a ploy on your part when you accepted?” 

“Not entirely. I fully intend to teach you to defend yourself, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to take advantage of the situation... probably.”

“Why?”

He looked surprised at her question. It told her he didn’t spend a lot of time with girls that cared to even wonder why, let alone bother to ask. They circled each other warily before he threw another punch that she dodged and twisted his arm up with hers, using his momentum to throw him toward the wall.

Catching himself with a loud thump, he wheeled around, coming for her again. This time he caught her around the waist as she tried to evade him and avoided the instep stomp, but not the elbow to the solar plexus. It loosened his grip for only a moment before he locked his arms around her, turning her and pinning her against the wall. Ineffectually, she pushed against him before he swiftly used his much larger hand, pinning both her slender wrists above her head and incapacitating her completely. For the second time that day she found herself trapped between a wall and Dean’s body. 

“I wish I knew,” he replied softly, surprising both with his truthful response. Meeting his gaze she found there was something in his eyes, something she’d seen earlier in her memory when she’d asked who he was at the farm. was a warmth, an interest, a depth of feeling she couldn’t place or understand.

He dipped his head and once again his lips met hers as her eyes fluttered shut. His free hand cupped her jaw, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. They both knew that she’d been lying when she’d said she hadn’t asked him to train her without the thought of being closer to him. They both knew she’d wanted the physical intimacy that fighting with him would undoubtedly create, and they also both knew she wasn’t about to admit it. It would give him too much control and she was afraid of giving him that kind of hold on her.

It still didn’t stop Ella from losing herself in his kiss and wishing for more. It left her with the distinct impression that they’d gone through this dance before. His hand let go of hers, trailing a burning path down her sides to where they fisted in her shirt. She found his touch was as familiar as his eyes had been in the Impala. The stray thought that he’d definitely improved since the last time slipped in and out of her mind before she could even really register it. 

****  
Jessi grimaced as she saw the Impala parked in front of Jameson’s. Dean couldn’t have picked a more conspicuous spot if he’d tried. She couldn’t help the spark of temper that had the wheels of her Jeep squealing as she pulled into her own spot. Normally her workout would’ve at least helped smooth out the edges of her anger from the night before, but no matter how hard she pushed herself, she hadn’t been able to burn it off. The more she thought about what Ella had kept from her, the more she simmered. Her anger had spilled over onto Jem although logically she knew it’d been Ella and Ella alone that should’ve told her. No matter what reasons either one of them had to keep the danger her cousin could be in out of their talks, she'd deserved to have known all of it up front.

As frustrated as she was, Jessi knew her cousin might deserve her wrath, but it wouldn’t do any good to fight with her. Ella would stand by her decision bullheadedly no matter what Jessi said at this point. It was just her luck that Dean had offered a perfect scapegoat to take the edge off the anger she hadn’t been able to let go of. Her smile spread with a wicked gleam as she snatched up her workout bag and stalked out of her car.

“Damn Dean Winchester,” she muttered. “Does whatever he wants and to hell with any warnings I might give him, to hell with the fact that he could bring the whole family down on us. What do I know?”

She’d told him in no uncertain terms to stay off her uncle’s radar; she couldn’t have been any clearer if she’d included pictures or an informational film, the damn Neanderthal. Jessi’s eyes swept the parking lot around the pub, leaving her hissing out a breath. It wasn’t entirely in relief, at least not yet.

At this point it was a vain hope that Jem hadn’t gotten in earlier than expected. Just last night she’d been counting on Jem leaving before the night shift but that hadn’t happened. She couldn’t count on the fact that just because Jem’s car wasn’t in its usual spot, he wasn’t on the premises.  
Seeing no sign of Dean in the restaurant, she headed for the back stairs with a thudding heart, desperately praying her uncle hadn’t already gotten ahold of Dean. No matter how she tried to spin it, there was no excuse she could make that would explain Dean’s continued presence.  
Her only hope was that Dean had been able to lie smoothly through those pearly whites of his, pearly whites she had every intention of bloodying for not listening to her. 

As she hit the last couple steps at the top of the stairs, she heard banging coming from down the hall in the direction of the apartment. Her heart stopped, even as she reminded herself that Ella shouldn't be home. Her heart thudded painfully as it started again, adrenaline sliding through her veins, giving her the ability to move. Instantly she hopped the last couple stairs and looked to her Uncle’s office to find the door was shut and there was no light coming from underneath it.

Glancing apprehensively down the hall, she knew with everything in her that Ella was in that apartment. Jessi wasn’t certain what would’ve kept her cousin from her classes, but she now had a pretty good idea of why Dean’s car was in front of the pub. She could only be thankful that there was someone with Ella that could help her. 

Desperately, she fought to think of what could’ve possibly gotten into the pub let alone the apartment. The base wards should keep most anything dangerous from getting into the pub let alone the apartment. That thought was enough to send chills down her spine. She didn’t have time to contemplate it; the scuffling sounds of fighting only barely muffled by the door spurred her on. Sprinting lightly down the hall, she pulled her knife and flicked her wrist to open it as she threw open the door ready to lend her skills to Dean’s aide.

The scene that greeted her had her stopping dead and her mouth dropping open. Completely dumbfounded, she could only watch as Ella elbowed Dean in the midsection, managing to gain her freedom for mere seconds before Dean’s arms locked around her.

They were too distracted by the fight to even hear her come through the door, regardless of the fact it’d crashed into the wall hard with a thud. She slapped a hand on the door as it dented the wall before bouncing back at her. Everything was happening so fast she couldn’t even begin to process it, let alone react to it.

Dean twisted Ella and shoved her back against the wall. Jessi could see both their lips moving, but didn’t hear the conversation through the furious roaring in her own ears.

What in the hell did Dean think he was doing? He’d said he was going to protect Ella, and this sure as hell wasn’t her idea of protecting. She could still see Ella’s lips moving and hear the rumble of Dean’s voice, but she was springing into action, moving to protect her cousin from the very man she’d thought she could trust to do that for her.

Dean pinned Ella’s hands above her head and Jessi found herself once again stopped cold, frozen in mid-stride by the sight of Dean’s head dropping and his lips meeting Ella’s. As she watched in shock, Ella’s eyes fluttered shut. Jessi was struck by the confusion of emotions that swirled through both Ella and Dean, forcing her to fight to block the onslaught of sensations. There was no doubt the kiss was by no means unwanted by either party.

"What in God's name is going on?" her voice was about two octaves higher than normal, and whether it was from anger or shock, she wasn't sure. Kicking the door to their apartment closed behind her, she watched through narrowed eyes as they guiltily jumped apart.  
Jessi wasn’t certain whether to be furious or amused. 

"Uh, we’re training," Ella responded, her eyes not quite meeting Jessi's. Jessi glanced over at Dean, who shoved his hands in his pockets while he tried to appear nonchalant. His face was blank, in an expression Jessi knew well. He was trying desperately to hide or bury his emotions. She noted he wouldn't meet her eyes either.

Jessi gripped her knife hard and took a deep breath, fighting to get control now that she realized there was nothing to fear. Carefully closing the knife and sliding it back into her pocket, she began stripping off her coat.

“Training?” She asked, her voice suspiciously light. Jessi threw her coat haphazardly onto the coat rack, not even bothering to see if it landed as she crossed her arms, her eyebrows raising. “What kind of training would that be?”

“Fighting,” Ella sighed, her head dipping as Jessi watched with interest at the blush that spread across her cheeks.

“Oh honey, I don’t know what he told you, but that isn’t fighting.”

“Aren’t you home early?” Ella snapped as she pulled her composure together and met Jessi’s gaze finally, her own eyes flashing irritably.

“Aren't you supposed to be in class?” Jessi returned.

"Since when did you become my mother, Jessi?" Ella ground out between clenched teeth. 

Jessi just stared back at her cousin as she tilted her head questioningly. Her eyes shifted briefly to Dean for a second, but he looked as though he’d prefer the floor open and swallow him alive rather than get involved in the conversation. 

"We’re more than just roommates, Ella. I think as your family and your partner I deserve a bit more explanation than that," Jessi responded, a small smile dancing around the corners of her mouth, though it did nothing to soften the bite of her tone.

Jessi couldn’t help her amusement as she watched Ella's mouth open and close, but nothing came out. After a moment of looking like a landed fish, her lips thinned as she tried unsuccessfully to find a suitable response. It was rare for Ella to be speechless and Jessi couldn’t stop herself from letting her irritation completely slip in favor of her entertainment at the sight. 

There was anger brewing in Ella’s eyes, more than likely at not only getting caught kissing Dean, but then not being able to formulate a response. Apparently Dean had skills. Not that it was a surprise to Jessi, she’d seen his effect on many a waitress, but to leave Ella with her wits scattered, fighting for words, was truly impressive. 

In frustration, Ella snatched up the nearest thing, which happened—thankfully—to be just a boxing glove and hurled it. Jessi laughed at the uncharacteristically juvenile response as she caught the glove inches from her face and tossed it aside. 

"Be thankful that's all I threw," Ella snapped as she picked up a water bottle and took a deep drink, unable to find any way to play it off which irritated the hell out of her. 

“You know, all you had to do was ask and I would’ve been more than happy to start training with you again,” Jessi said with reproach in her voice.  
"It's too hard fight with you. I need someone I can't anticipate, so I know for a fact that I'm being pushed to my limit. I think you go too easy on me," Ella retorted coolly, her gaze holding Jessi’s levelly.


	11. Chapter 11

"Please Dean, tell me what part of inconspicuous didn't you get?" she growled at him though she continued to hold Ella's eye. "Move your damn car before Jem sees it."

"Damn," Dean muttered, just barely holding back a snappy retort. As much as he hated to admit it, Jessi was right. Saying it hadn't gone well the last time he'd seen the Jameson's was an obvious understatement.

He should've thought of it himself. He'd been so worried about getting Ella inside he'd completely forgotten Jessi's warnings. Glancing from Jessi to Ella he quickly surmised that this wasn't about the car, not entirely, not even mostly.

Both girls were simmering and heading for a full boil. It was high noon baby, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be Gary Cooper. He enjoyed a good cat fight, but if he opened his mouth, it was likely both would run the risk of both turning on him.

Electing to stay out of the line of fire, he took his coat from the rack, slipped his keys from his pocket and headed out the door as he tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

The girls stared at each other as silence fell between them, a calm before the storm. The flash of defiance in Ella's eyes and the set of her chin warmed Jessi's heart even as she returned it with a single raised eyebrow. With her hip cocked and her arms akimbo Jessi gave no quarter, eyeing Ella she bit back a smile to find her cousin was unconsciously mirroring her stance.

"What? You're not going to chase him out and read him the right act like last night?"�

Ella's voice snapped out like the first shot between a couple of gun slingers, her eyes narrowing as her hands clenched into fists.

"Apparently, he's useful," Jessi replied with an irritable shrug.

"Sure, as long as he's pointing out the danger that you don't want to see, then he's useful."

"A danger you should've told me about, Ella," Jessi snapped, cutting her cousin off.

"You're right, I probably should've, but can you blame me for not telling you?" Ella demanded, throwing her hands up and picking up her water again. "All of you, from Jem to Nana to Aunt Ellen and right down the line treats me like a helpless baby. Not one of you can give me credit for the half the brains of a child or the capability of a toddler, and you're the worst. If I'd told you the whole truth from the beginning, you would've walked away, don't even try to deny it."

Jessi just stared at her cousin in shock, her mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Triumphant flashed through Ella as she realized she'd momentarily rendered Jessi speechless, but it didn't alleviate her anger. Letting out a growl of frustration she turned away to lean against the counter her free hand balled into a fist. Â Every line of her body was ready for a fight, but instead of throwing the punch she so obviously wanted to, she squeezed the bottle water fountaining out before she hurled it at the wall. The remaining water dribbled over the weights. It was an odd role reversal that Jessi was calm and quiet in her anger while Ella was throwing things. 

'Please Ella, you think I'd leave you alone? So you could bullheadedly ignore the danger and get in deeper than you could get out of?" Jessi snapped. "You need me."

"Damn it, Jessi. That right there is the problem. Do you even hear yourself? The trouble I'd bull headedly get into? Who in the hell are you talking about, you or me? Did you forget that my job is going to be to try to foresee the trouble you could get into and keep you safe?"  
“Maman called us two sides of the same coin, Ella. We might have our differences, but you're no less stubborn than I am. There's no way I could, let alone would, leave you alone in this.”

“No, instead you'd try to force me to be something I'm not, something I can't even remember being. Do you think it's easy for me to have my memory gone? Do you think I enjoy people remembering the Guardian everyone thought I was going to be? Ever since Rico died, I've had everyone's disappointment shoved down my throat. I'm a disappointment to my blood and to everything my family expected me to be. I would give anything to be that person Jessi.”

"Ella..." 

"No, you listen to me for once Jessi. Everyone has been pulling me in different directions since Grandda died. You want me to be who I was, Nana wants me to be a blind civilian, and I can't do either completely. I'll never be the girl I was when were little and I couldn't live with myself if I turned a blind eye completely. I don't know what broke all those years ago Jessi, I'm sorry, but I can't fix it. I'm trying to make peace with the who I was and who I am, I'm doing everything I can to make something out of it. have to stop fighting for the past and accept the future Jessi."

Ella stood only feet from her cousin, practically shaking with emotion. The war she'd been fighting inside thanks to her family was so plain on her face that it stabbed at Jessi's heart. There was obviously confusion and intense conflict, and Jessi could see now the desperate wishes that were tearing Ella apart.   
Looking up to blink back the rush of tears, Jessi bit her lip. She'd been no better than her aunt. The pain the woman had caused her cousin from childhood had given her little love for Ella's mother. There had been little interest beyond the Guardian Ella would become and when that was taken away, her aunt had shunned her daughter entirely. There had been too many times Jessi had seen that mixture of failure and sorrow on Ella's face because of Delphine. It nearly broke her heart to see she'd caused the same feelings. 

"I can't be what you want. I'm sorry Jessi."

But you could, Jessi wanted to scream, you could be if we could just break the spell. 

It was there just beneath the surface as she’d fought Dean, she’d been slow and out of practice, but the talent was there. Biting her lip to keep from arguing she glanced away. There was nothing she could say, even if she tried she would only confuse and upset Ella further.  
Jessi had been so focused on breaking the spell she’d never looked beyond at what would happen after. Even if they broke the spell, it was possible it could have lingering and lasting effects. No matter what she wanted the Ella she remembered might never fully come back. Hell, she wasn’t even certain any more what she wished Ella was and what had been.   
Blinking back tears Jessi admitted to herself that in her own way she’d been as bad as Nana. She’d spent too much time trying to reclaim the past and they couldn’t go back. They couldn’t erase the years and redo them or change what had been. Jessi needed to let go, she had to support her cousin in whatever way Ella needed.

"I know, Ella," she replied softly, crossing the remaining distance between them and wrapping her arms around Ella. "I'm sorry."

Ella stood stiffly until after a moment she relented.

"Stop treating me like a feeble child, Jessi. Stop treating me like I'm helpless."

"I know you're not helpless, but I just can't lose you. I just can't" she whispered. She pulled back enough to look at Ella, her eyes pleading for understanding. "We'll work on training you and when I'm not here, someone else will be. Someone we can trust to protect you."

The door opened and Jessi watched as Dean walked back into the apartment. His eyes narrowed on the two of them, but he said nothing as Jessi gave him a small watery smile and a light nod. The sight of him had her wondering if she'd been looking at the situation all wrong.

To be sure, she carefully reached out with her empathy, bringing down the walls she had painstakingly learned to build. Slowly and gently reaching out, she found something simmering between them that was far more than the lust that had originally struck her.

Only an idiot would've been blind to the sparks flying between them. However, there was something hovering just at the edges that had her wondering if Dean hadn't gotten over Ella any more than Ella had gotten over him. Jessi could sense something deeper, something that was stronger than attraction. Something that made her wonder if she should reconsider her stance on Dean keeping his distance.

Jessi had been worried about Ella's heart and the naiveté that couldn't be helped. She'd been worried about what effect the past would have on the present. Ella obviously had some subconscious memory, a memory that was anything but subconscious for Dean. Jessi had felt the jagged wound in his heart and the way it'd ached, bleeding even as it skipped a beat for Ella. Dean's eyes had followed her cousin drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. She'd almost forgotten it in everything that had happened. The flash of his emotions too strong for her to block out even as he hid the emotions that for a few moments were clear.

Lucky for her Jessi couldn't have planned better if she'd tried, if Dean still had feelings for Ella there was no one that could protect her better. When they were young Jem had come home from England specifically to train Dean, but Rico had died first. Instead her uncle had been forced to try to take control of the family and make the decisions for them all. The few times his name had come up Jem had always lamented he'd never gotten a chance to train Dean. A teacher rarely got a student with the raw talent Dean had, Jem had told her.

Jem had once said he'd wished he'd gotten his hands on Dean to train. A teacher only got a few truly talented pupils and Dean had a raw talent. One that he'd ended up honing in his own way that was admittedly rough, but obviously effective.

Their first hunt was coming up and Ella was nowhere near ready physically to protect herself and it wasn't as if she could completely trust the family. Part of her was afraid that Nana was setting them up to fail. There was a nearly fanatical need to see the girls banned forever. Nana was getting desperate, she'd thought she had control, but Ella had cleverly found a way around it. It was only going to cause her to tailspin more because the last person Nana had expected to rebel it was Ella.

Nana had been a few screws loose since Grandda and Rico's deaths. The clear logical rational mind had been replaced by irrational fear, and a desperate need to keep Ella safe, damn the consequences or the collateral damage.

With Jessi gone and distracted by a hunt who knew what their grandmother would do? She could easily let her fear rule her and could easily wind up getting both the girls hurt not to mention anyone involved with them. The worst part was she’d never truly see the truth of her actions.   
Jessi knew Nana would never actually plan to kill them, but she was quite capable of planning for someone to get injured. Nothing major, but enough to prove Ella and Jessi inept. It was more than plausible for her plan to snowball out of her control and end with one or both of them severely injured or killed.

Jessi knew that most of the family would never willingly let Nana endanger her granddaughters let alone a hunt, but it wasn't as if she could go to them. Unfortunately, the simple fact was Nana held the strings and there were too many that hadn't seen how far their grandmother had fallen.  
Jem alone was a bastion of light in the darkness of confusion and fear that Nana could incite, but he was only one. He'd only just managed garner enough trust in his position as Head of the family that he'd been able to fight for the girls to have been given a chance to prove themselves. The argument on Jessi's banning had lasted days, the only ace Nana had was that if Jessi went out in the field Ella would eventually follow  
Nana was quite capable of whipping up the fear in herself and passing it around. Ella's natural talents had been the tipping point for her own banning. She'd been an incredibly gifted hereditary witch before Nana had bound her powers. The wounds she'd sustained from the attack that had killed Rico had left a poison in Ella, one that should've killed her. How she'd survived and how her blood had saved Sam was still a mystery. 

Not even Jem, who had scoured every known Guardian library and any other he thought might have answers, could explain it. All they knew is that the poison hadn't entirely been eradicated, it still lingered in Ella's blood with a darkness no one knew exactly how it could affect Ella. There was no guarantee it wouldn't eventually take control of her and the idea of a Guardian with Ella's natural talent going dark was understandably terrifying.  
Jessi hadn't ever been able to swallow the idea of Ella going dark. Grandda had said it himself the day before he was killed, not even the darkness of what had attacked Ella could darken her light. If there was anyone they had to worry about it was Jessi, she'd be far more likely to go dark than Ella.  
That hadn't mattered, Nana had wielded the family's fear as skillfully as she'd once handled a blade. It didn't help that she'd been a trusted elder, one that prior to the death of her husband and her son had been wise and careful in her dealings. No one had seen the other side; the cunningly ruthless woman that had let fear consume her.

Jessi feared the day that Nana's true nature would show, but there was no telling exactly how far she would go before the rest of the family saw it. Jessi couldn't even be sure that Jem saw how frighteningly desperate Nana had become. The reality was that Jem could be so easily blinded by Nana until it was too late to undo what she'd already set into motion.

A shiver went down Jessi's spine at the thought. Her face was a carefully controlled mask as she stepped back from Ella giving her a smile before turning her attention back to Dean.

"So, are we going to train or are we all going to stand here with our thumbs up our ass?"

Dean watched her carefully for a moment; he knew her too well. She knew he had seen her fear, but he also knew it wasn't something he could ask about with Ella there.

"For a cat fight or two women at once either way I'm game," Dean said with a shrug before a smile split his face at the matching expressions and noises of sheer disgust. His dancing eyes told Jessi it'd been a joke and a distraction for her benefit.

"You know him; does he always have to go there?' Ella asked shaking her head.

"Unfortunately, yes, he thinks he does," Jessi replied as she exchanged an eye roll with Ella.

"Stop yapping and get in the ring, Jessi," Dean interrupted, turning all business. "Ella, watch closely how she fights. Pay special attention to how she either evades me or slips my grip. You're going to need to match her."

Ella nodded as Jessi moved into fighting stance and watched Dean suspiciously. Ella had to admit she was going to enjoy watching Dean get his ass handed to him.

She'd seen plenty of men try to take on her cousin. They frequently made the mistake of assuming that because she was small, she didn't pack much of a punch. They were always proven wrong. Ella quickly discovered, however, Dean apparently wasn't most men because he not only held his own, he proved time and time again he could take Jessi down.

As she watched, Jessi slipped Dean's grasp and retaliated with a kick that he instantly slapped away. She tried to circle him while she maintained her distance from his much longer reach. With a flurry of punches and kicks, she attacked. Each one Dean either dodged or blocked. His greater strength forced her to bring her limbs back swiftly as he pushed them away. When he tried to tackle her, Jessi dodged effortlessly and elbowed him in the face. Regaining the upper hand, she swept his foot out from under him and sent him crashing to the floor. He reached out as he fell, taking her with him. They struggled for a few moments before Dean managed to twist around, pinning Jessi under him.

"Son of a bitch."

The even more colorful swearing that preceded Jessi's exclamation told Ella that this wasn't the first time. She tapped at him and he rolled off her with a grin.

"If I'd known we were going to play Dean, I wouldn't have worked out so hard at the gym."

"Excuses, excuses," Dean returned with a brief grin while Jessi got to her feet, his attention already turned to Ella. Jessi watched as Dean spoke to her cousin already, moving her into a block to stop his punch.

"Hey, you two don't get to have all the fun," Jessi said, breaking them up, stepping in as Dean directed Ella on how to spin around her opponent and break free.

After nearly two hours of watching and then attempting to replicate Jessi's moves, Ella was dripping with sweat, out of breath, and she wasn't sure she would be able to stand for much longer.

It was grueling and frustrating. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't manage to move like her cousin. Even more frustrating was the fact that Dean was now completely focused on fighting and she couldn't distract him enough to get the leverage she needed. She didn't feel confident enough to use the same tactics she'd used in the alley, not with Jessi there watching. Besides, she had the very distinct feeling she wouldn't be the first to try to seduce Dean into detrimental distraction; he just hadn't expected it from her that first time. What had worked once she was pretty damn certain wouldn't work again.

Ella meandered down the hall to the linen closet, listening to the sound of flesh meeting flesh and the grunts of training. Damn; it had been years since she'd heard those sounds and she hadn't realized how much she missed it. She hadn't realized how much she missed any of the life until she'd decided she'd made a mistake in trying to walk away from it. 

Opening the door of the closet, she pulled out a couple of simple white towels, the kind you could bleach the smell of sweat out of and the first aid kit. She'd split a couple of knuckles since she hadn't thought to tape her hands or wear gloves. Her hands, wrists, and forearms were sore in general from the force of her fist meeting a target or blocking a punch. It had been too long since she'd trained, so long she'd forgotten how it made her blood sing, how alive it made her feel.

"A born fighter through and through, you the heart of a warrior and the mind of a sovereign my sweet Ella. You and Jessi will go down as two of the greats, mark my words."

Grandda's voice echoed in her head. Deep pride and warm praise could be heard, both of those directed at her. It was the first time she remembered those emotions attributed to her own fighting. Sure, she'd heard it whispered all her life, how she'd once shown such promise; how everyone had thought she'd be a hero on par with those that still dominated mythology with their valiant deeds. However, this was the first time she remembered a close family member saying the words.

This time the memory didn't cause sharp blinding pains like the previous ones; instead it was a dull ache, one that she could focus beyond. Absently, she rubbed at her temple while she set down the items she’d collected and picked up a towel to wipe her brow.   
Taking up her water bottle, she drank deeply as she watched Jessi and Dean spar, while her mind tried to sort through the day. Jessi had never given up; Ella could see it in the moves that Jessi used that she'd never seen before. Even despite her obviously continuing to train, she could only get the upper hand in a fight with Dean two out of five bouts. Continuing to watch, she capped the bottle. Jessi's eyes were narrowed, her complete focus was on Dean; she'd forgotten Ella was even there.

Throwing a punch, Jessi wrapped him into an arm bar, using his momentum to dodge and over balance him. He landed face down on the floor as Jessi twisted his arm behind him, putting a knee in his back. When he tried to rise, she pushed his arm higher up his back.

"Alright, I give," Dean grumbled before Jessi let him go, bouncing up with a grin and holding her hand out to help him up. "I need food."  
"Of course you do, you're a walking appetite," Jessi replied wryly.

"How about you put in an order for Chinese while I hit the shower," Ella suggested, breaking off a bickering match she could see brewing. It struck her how she instantly stepped into the role of peacemaker between the two with little understanding as to why. She shook off the feeling that it was how it'd always been between the three of them. "Besides, you need to be downstairs for shift in a few hours. You need to grab a shower and some food first."


End file.
